


Motorcycles and Memories

by ourlittlesecret



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Heartbreak, Love, M/M, Memories, Motorcycles, Other, Romance, Suggestions welcome, glass houses, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, not good at tagging, somewhat canon-compliant i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:02:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 93,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2565932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourlittlesecret/pseuds/ourlittlesecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are in love, but as they know (and continue to learn) that isn't always enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I have an idea.”

“Do you? And what might that be?” Louis asked, looking over at Harry who was rummaging around in one of the many closets in his home. Louis was surprised this one wasn’t as empty as the rest of them.

“Let’s get away.”

“You know we can’t.”

“I know we can’t get far away, or for long, but I think I know a way that we can be free, for just a little while” Harry said, his face holding more than a hint of mischief. “Ride with me.”

“Ride with you?”

“On my bike.”

“Harry,” Louis said hesitantly.

“Look, I got you a helmet,” Harry said, pulling it out of the closet and presenting it to Louis happily. “Try it on.” Louis was reluctant, but did as he was told, pulling the black helmet over his hair. “What do you think?”

“It feels a bit snug.”

“It’s supposed to. I don’t want it slipping off.” Harry grinned and tapped the top of the helmet. “You look hot in that, by the way.”

Louis tugged the helmet off and set it down. “I don’t see how we’ll get away with this.” Louis wasn’t sure he wanted to tempt fate. By some miracle, they had managed to spend a quiet two weeks together without anyone seeming to notice. They had picked out paint colors and furniture for Harry’s new house, lounged by the pool, and had quiet dinners at home, just the two of them. They didn’t get that kind of time together often, and it seemed foolish to push the limits even further.

“Come on. Put on a jacket and grab your helmet.”

Though skeptical, Louis picked up his denim jacket from the ridiculous purple velour sofa Harry had insisted on ordering, and followed Harry into the garage where he noticed that there was a new motorcycle, this one a BMW, sitting next to Harry’s treasured (though unreliable) Harley. “That’s new.”

“Yep.” Harry’s mouth turned up in a wide smile. “I got it for you.”

“If you think I’m driving this thing--”

“No! No. It’s for us.” Harry felt shy all of a sudden, watching Louis’ face to gauge his reaction. “It’s a bit bigger, more comfortable, so we could ride together,” he clarified. “So…”

“Good thinking, Harold.” Louis offered Harry a smile and he willingly took it, his shyness dissipating as quickly as it had arrived.

“So, here’s what we’ll do,” Harry started, his tone conspiratorial; though there was no one around to hear, they had both grown used to being guarded about what they said, especially when it involved each other. “We’re going to go out the back, and wind through the neighborhood the long way.”

“There is no way we’ll get out of here with someone seeing.”

“The paps are gone for the day. I let them take some pictures when I went out earlier and asked them for some privacy. I’ll have someone go and check to be sure if it would make you feel better.”

Louis shrugged. He knew that it annoyed Harry when he worried too much so he didn’t want to say anything, but Harry was already texting his body guard. Louis didn’t stop him.

“Ok, he’ll take a look around,” Harry said, pocketing the phone. He knew that Louis wasn’t one for taking chances like this so wanted to make sure everything went according to plan. It wouldn’t do to have this end in utter failure. Louis trusted him, however fragile that trust might be, and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that in the least. It had taken so long for them to find their way back to one another. Harry was all too aware of what his recklessness had cost them, and he wasn’t going to take that chance again. But he couldn’t stand feeling so trapped. Sure, they had had a lovely few days to themselves, but they had been trapped inside Harry’s house as if it were a fortress. They needed to be outside together, in the fresh air. They needed to feel free. “So, no one knows about this bike yet.”

“Surely someone knows?”

“Well, yes,” Harry admitted. “But they promised they wouldn’t say anything about it until tomorrow, so I think we’ll be okay. ” Harry was starting to feel nervous, paranoid that he wouldn’t be able to give Louis this gift. He stared at the bike, and then at the garage door, trying to envision just how this was going to work after all. The plan had seemed so simple when he had dreamed it up.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to push down the anxious feeling that was building when he felt a hand against his back, gentle but firm. “Maybe--” he started, before Louis interrupted him.

“It’s okay. I trust you.” Louis was glad to see--to feel--Harry relax against his hand,glad to know that just a few words from him was all Harry needed to feel better. He knew that Harry worried quite a bit about Louis’ trust in him, and Louis knew he needed to make a better point of showing it. Harry turned to face him and rewarded him with a look of relief.

“Promise?”

It bothered Louis that Harry even had to ask, or that he had to explicitly state his trust, but accepted it for what it was. “I promise. I trust you.” Louis assured him. “Tell me the plan.”

Encouraged by Louis’ assurance, Harry launched into a detailed explanation of his plan.

Louis loved it when Harry had a plan and loved even more to watch Harry when he was excited about something. It turned Louis on in a way that very few things did: the way his face lit up and his hands moved excitedly; the way Harry’s mouth moved as he talked; and the way his words came out low, and slow, and perfect. Always perfect. He often found himself staring at Harry’s mouth while his words went in one ear and out the other; it wasn’t that he didn’t care about what Harry was saying, because he did.

It was just so damn hard to concentrate on anything but the movement of Harry’s lips.

“So, how does that sound?” Harry had thought of every last detail, knowing that Louis would appreciate it, and he looked at him now for his final seal of approval.

“It sounds perfect,” Louis told him, and Harry knew he meant it. “When do we leave?”

“Now.”

“Alright, then,” Louis said. He pulled his new helmet over his head and walked toward the motorcycle. Harry watched, but didn’t move from where he was standing a few feet away. He had his helmet tucked under his arm and was just staring at Louis as he walked up to the motorcycle and then turned to face him. “What are you waiting for?” Louis tilted his head a bit and smiled. “Come on. If we’re doing this, we probably need to go.”

Seeing Louis walk toward the motorcycle made it real in a way it hadn’t been until that moment. This felt important.

It was important.

“What’s wrong,” Louis said, removing his helmet again and taking a few quick strides toward Harry.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this, after all,” Harry said, his nerves getting the best of him.

“Why are you being so indecisive? We’re doing this.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, backing away.

“Harry,” Louis entreated, stepping closer to him, grabbing Harry’s free hand in his, locking their fingers together. “Look at me.” Harry was staring just over Louis’ head at the motorcycle that now seemed like a nefarious enemy, but forced his gaze to Louis’ face. “We’re going to do this.”

“What if we get caught?” It wasn’t a question that Harry usually asked. He never had to, because Louis always asked it first.

“You sound like me,” Louis said softly. It made his stomach knot up, seeing Harry this way. It killed him, what this entire thing had done to Harry. For all of his playfulness and bravado, Harry had been hurt in a way that Louis feared was irreparable. That’s why following through on Harry’s plan was so important. Louis knew that Harry wanted to give him this gift, but Louis needed to give him one as well. Louis reached up and tucked Harry’s hair behind his ear. “We’re doing this,” he repeated. “We’re going to do this, and it will be wonderful.”

“But what if it isn’t?”

“Harry, please, don’t do this. I can’t be brave if you aren’t.” He didn’t know if it was the right thing to say, but it was true. Harry bit his lip but didn’t say anything, so Louis continued, hoping that something he said would reassure Harry. “You said yourself that it was fool-proof. We’ll take the back way out, on a bike that no one knows about. And with the jackets and helmets, no one will recognize us anyway, right?” He squeezed Harry’s hand.

“So you were listening?”

“Of course I was! And on the off chance that someone does spot us, and we’re found out, it isn’t the most incriminating thing ever, to go on a motorcycle ride with a friend, is it? It isn’t like we’re having sex on stage.”

“We’re not?” Harry pouted. “That was my whole grand scheme,” he teased.

“No. We’re not,” Louis said, dropping Harry’s hand and glad to see that his dark mood had lifted. “No matter what happens.” Before he could walk away, Harry reached out and hooked his fingers in the front of Louis’ jeans.

“But what if I ask nicely?” Harry tugged until Louis took a step toward him. “What if I say please?”

“Never, Styles. Never. We will never have sex on stage.” He grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled his hand away, sure that they’d never make it to the motorcycle if he didn’t. “Come on,” he said, and started walking toward the bike.

“Never say never,” Harry said as he followed Louis, his boots clacking on the concrete floor.

“Never,” Louis repeated with a smile, watching as Harry pulled his helmet on and stretched his leg over the bike. He stood there as Harry started the bike and it rumbled to life.

“Get on,” Harry said over the roar of the engine. “Let’s go.”

Louis pulled his own helmet on and stretched his leg over the back of the bike, his body close to Harry’s but not quite touching, not yet. Not until Harry turned his head and said, “Hold on tight,” did Louis lean into him and slide his arms around Harry’s body.

Harry’s jacket was undone, and Louis could feel the soft cotton of Harry’s t-shirt, flimsy against his hard stomach. They couldn’t see each others faces, though they both wished for it, wanted to look into each others eyes as they embarked on this clandestine, but bold, journey. In lieu of that, Harry placed his hand over Louis’ where it rested against his stomach, grasped it and pulled it so that it was over his rapidly beating heart, so that Louis would know just how much this meant.

And so that Harry would understand just how much it meant to Louis too, Louis left his hand there as Harry put both hands on the handlebars, and they rolled out into the afternoon light.

They managed to escape the neighborhood without anyone noticing, and then the city, and then finally they were on the open road. Louis could feel Harry relax bit by bit with every success they had until finally Harry had actually sighed with relief and put his hand, however briefly, over Louis’. It was nice, being together this way, just the two of them. Able to just be together without talking or doing something. Their time together always felt too brief, too rushed. They had to cram months’ worth of things into a few days here and there, and it was taxing.

It never took long before there was some sort of drama that needed their attention, another rumor to quell, another girlfriend to satisfy.

Another heartache to mend.

But right now, Louis didn’t want to think about those things, didn’t need to think about them. He was right where he wanted to be.

Harry, for his part, was ecstatic that his plan had worked and that he had the one person he always wanted to be with pressed against his back as he sped down the highway. There were no cameras, no bodyguards, no minders of any sort and he couldn’t keep a huge grin off of his face. He was grateful to be so close to Louis, to know that Louis trusted him enough to do this, and he was glad not to have to talk. He just wanted to take solace in the fact that arms of the person he loved most in this world were wrapped around him at this very instant.

It was rarely easy any more, but this felt exactly that. Easy. There was no rush to explain, no hurt feelings, no pretending.

They rode this way for close to two hours before Harry pulled off of the highway onto a smaller winding road that seemed to go no where. They drove for a while longer before Harry pulled into an even smaller road and drove through a tall gate, revealing a sprawling lot with a house sitting in the middle of it. It wasn’t a huge house, but it was a nice one; it’s glass facade twinkled in the early evening light and Louis could tell that it was situated in such a way that the views would be amazing through the floor to ceiling windows.

Louis let his arms dropped to his own lap as Harry came to a stop and turned off the bike.

“What’s this,” he asked as he pulled the helmet over his head.

“A house,” Harry said, as if he was being particularly clever.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you,” Louis teased as he got off the bike. “I can see that it’s a house. Are we staying here?”

“We are,” Harry said, following Louis toward the front door.

“I didn’t realize this was an overnight trip.”

“Do you really think I’d just drive straight on and not take every minute I could?” Harry fished in his pocket before procuring a key. “Not to mention the fact that there’s no way I could drive 5 whole hours without a break. Welcome home.” He pushed the door open and held it open for Louis, but Louis stopped short, staring at him.

“Home?”

“Don’t you like it?” Harry had spent a long time looking for the right place, the perfect house that he and Louis could share together. When he had found this one, he knew in an instant that it was perfect.

Speechless, Louis walked through the door and stopped again as he tried to take it all in. “Harry,” he began, but he didn’t know what to say. He stood there, awed, impressed, in love, as Harry walked up to him and pressed his body against Louis’ back, wrapping his arms around him, resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder.

“Well?”

“It’s perfect.”

“I was going to talk to you about it, but when I saw it, I just knew that you would love it and I didn’t want to risk losing it,” Harry told him. “I know that it’s a little crazy.”

“It’s not crazy. It’s amazing. Absolutely amazing.” Louis tore his eyes from the magnificent view and turned to look at Harry. “I love it.”

“It’s private here. No neighbors for at least a mile. And the views…and we won’t have to have the curtains drawn all the damn time. And no one knows about it, but you and me. Aside from the realtor anyway.”

“Thank you,” Louis said quietly and pressed his lips to Harry’s. He felt Harry’s lips turn into a smile. Louis loved the house. He loved what Harry had done for him--for them. But there was a knot of unease in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t push away.

“Harry, this is so wonderful,” Louis began, pausing to find the right words, the right things to say. “And I hate to spoil it--”

“Then don’t, Louis. Please? Not tonight? Can’t we just enjoy it tonight?

Louis was certain that putting off what he had to say was not the best course of action, but he always found it hard to turn Harry down, and this was no exception. What he had to say would just have to wait.

 ****

  _“I’ve met someone.”_

_“I’ve met a lot of someones, what’s your point?”_

_“I’ve met a girl.” Louis said the words that he had been dreading to say and watched Harry’s reaction carefully._

_“We meet hundreds of girls every day.”_

_“Harry, are you being purposely difficult?” Louis grabbed his arm and pulled Harry toward him, back against the headboard where he was already leaning. “Look at me, please.”_

_Harry looked into Louis’ face and forced a smile, though he could already feel the unease churning in his stomach. He knew exactly what Louis was trying to say, and he was, in fact, being difficult on purpose. Louis tucked a curl behind Harry’s ear and let his hand linger there before letting it drop into the disheveled comforter on the bed. “I’ve met someone, and I think we might be able to make it work.”_

_“Make what work?” Harry asked, wondering what exactly it was that Louis wanted. He always thought he knew, but then things would shift and suddenly, he wouldn't know anymore._

_“I don’t know. All of it.”_

_“That’s pretty optimistic.” Harry scooted away from him and pulled his t-shirt on, feeling more vulnerable than he had in a long time--and not in a good way._

_“Harry.”_

_“What?”_

_“Can we talk about this?”_

_“I mean, what’s to say?”_

_“I think there’s quite a lot to say, actually.”_

_“Then say it.”_

_“Come on, don’t be like this. You knew this was coming, Harry. Don’t act so shocked.”_

_“I’m not shocked, Louis.” And he wasn’t. He was hurt, he was upset, he was devastated. He was not shocked. He did know this was coming, though he had tried to deny it for as long as possible. But things had become very clear recently, and there was no denying that he did in fact know. He knew they had pushed it too far, and as their success was taking off they were going to come under more scrutiny than ever. He knew what they were supposed to do, he just didn’t believe that Louis would really go for it._

_“Leeds was a mistake,” Louis told him, shifting gears._

_“Leeds was_ not _a mistake,” Harry said, turning toward him. “Leeds will never be a mistake. Don’t say that.” His hand automatically went to the bracelet he had yet to take off, though it had already been three weeks._ Leeds had not been a mistake _, Harry insisted to himself. He hated that Louis had even said that. Leeds had been the happiest weekend of his life, and the idea that the one person who had made it so was now calling it a mistake was absolutely heart wrenching._

_Louis crawled toward him and wrapped his hand around Harry’s wrist, tugging gently, silently asking him to come back to bed. He wanted to comfort him, but Harry jerked away. “Don’t touch me,” he said. He looked out of the window and wondered if he’d always remember this view, this room, as the exact place that his heart was broken. “Where did you meet her? How? When?”_

_Louis sat back on the bed, surprised that Harry was reacting the way he was. “Well, I didn’t think you’d take it this badly, to be quite honest.”_

_“How am I supposed to take it? You aren’t going to resist at all? Change their minds? You said we could talk about it.”_

_Louis had in fact told Harry that they could talk about it after they had sat behind closed doors with several members of their team and endured the most awkward meeting of their lives. Amy and her team obviously thought the whole thing had been one big joke, and Harry and Louis had taken advantage of that fact, but the message after Leeds was clear. Amy had coolly, but kindly, explained to them that their relationship was no longer going to be supported, and that they needed to call things off. Harry had nearly lost his mind at the suggestion. “It’s not something to be called off,” Harry had shouted. Amy had told them that she was sorry, but that her job was to sell them, and that Harry’s and Louis’ relationship was not part of the plan. Louis had handled it better than Harry, but that didn’t mean he was happy about the hurt it would cause._

_Harry could feel Louis’ eyes on his back, but couldn’t bear the thought of turning around. He was beyond hurt at Louis’ easy compliance with management and the tears were already stinging his eyes._

_“I know Harry, but what is there to say, really? We don’t have a choice.”_

_“No choice? We have plenty of choice. They don’t own us. We’re still people.”_

_Louis sighed heavily, wishing there was a way to rewind. “They do own us. After you stormed off the other day, I sat down with Amy privately and we came up with a plan.”_

_“Without me?” The words were barely a whisper._

_“I’m sorry.”_

_The words meant nothing to Harry. “Tell me.”_

_“Maybe it’s better if--”_

_“No. Tell me now.”_

_“Will you at least sit down, then?”_

_Harry sat in a chair in the corner, and glared at Louis. “I’m sitting.”_

_Louis moved closer to the edge of the bed. Harry wouldn’t look at him but Louis could see the heartbreak on his face. Though he believed that what they had to do was necessary, he hated having to hurt Harry._

_“The good news is, you don’t have to have a girlfriend,” Louis joked. It fell flat and he knew then that Harry would not be finding the humor in this anytime soon. Not that there really was any. “I don’t like this any more than you do, Harry. You do know that, don’t you?”_

_“I’m not saying you like it, but you sure are going along with it.”_

_“I’m only going along with it because when it comes down to it, we have no choice. We have to do what they say. And they’ve been doing this much longer than we have. Surely they know what’s best?” Louis had his doubts, but the facts were the facts. They were under contract. And, though Louis wouldn’t say so to Harry, he was almost relieved. He wasn’t really ready to have a relationship with Harry that was out in the open. He hadn’t expected to fall in love at all, not now, and certainly not with Harry._

_Harry continued to stare at the floor._

_“We’re under contract. Period.” Louis watched Harry carefully as he continued to explain to Harry, but it was obvious that Harry had checked out. “Are you even listening?”_

_“I’ve heard the important parts. You have to get a girlfriend and I have to keep my hands off of you.”_

_“In public.”_

_“In public,” Harry repeated. “When do I get to meet your new girlfriend?”_

_“She’s coming to the show tomorrow.”_

_“Tomorrow?!” Harry stood abruptly and grabbed his jacket. “I can’t take any more of this shit.”_

_“Harry, wait.”_

_“What?” His hand was on the doorknob and his heart was racing._

_“I love you.”_

_The words slammed into Harry. He felt as though he’d been shot. “Lucky me,” he said flatly and without looking Louis in the eye, walked into the hall._

****

The ride the next morning was somber and sober. They had spent the day lounging in bed, their bodies aching from their long journey, laughing, touching, bodies intertwined until the last possible moment, until they couldn’t delay it any longer. Louis had kissed him long and hard before they donned their helmets and swung their legs over the bike to head back to reality.

The ride didn’t feel freeing the way it had yesterday.

Harry was sad that their time alone was over, but he felt whole, which was something he was not used to feeling. He was happy that he and Louis were in a good place; happy that Louis loved their new home; happy they had had this time together and that his plan had worked. He knew too well that this feeling might not last forever, but for now, it was enough. Things were changing, getting better; easier even. And even though he knew, as they approached their next destination, that things would be far from perfect, he was hopeful that things would be okay, that he could continue to be himself, that Louis would drift closer instead of further away.

Louis was not so optimistic as they sped toward reality. Though Harry wasn’t exactly looking forward to going back, Louis was actually dreading it. He was dreading it because there was something that Harry was not aware of, something that he had not told Harry. He had meant to tell him, he had tried, even, but Harry had put a stop to that. Harry had asked him not to ruin their night, and so he didn’t. He knew that it was convenient to blame it on Harry, but he had ruined so many perfect moments with his bad news that he just couldn’t bring himself to force the conversation, even though he knew that he would pay for it later. He just hoped, as he held tightly to Harry, that this motorcycle ride, their new home, and his willingness to show Harry that he trusted him, would be enough to keep them going when they went back to the real world.

No matter what he told himself, though, with each mile marker they passed, Louis’ trepidation grew and he was more and more afraid that his lie of omission would damage this fragile peace that he and Harry had brokered over the last months. He was worried that it would negate everything that had just happened and that it would all be ruined. He wanted to stop the whole thing, to get off the bike, to go back to the house, to the beginning and start it all over again. He wanted to change things, make different choices. He was tired of being the bad guy and wished he had never been put in that position--had never put himself in that position. His hands were clammy against the leather of Harry’s coat, and his heart was pounding in his chest. He needed to talk to Harry, to try to explain, but he was trapped behind him, with no way to speak; and even if he could have, he wasn’t sure he would have. He wanted to stay where he was, pressed against a relaxed Harry’s back for as long as he could. But nothing lasts forever.

When they arrived at the stadium and tucked the bike between the tour buses, as they got off the bike and pulled their helmets off, Harry smiled at Louis and moved toward him, wanting to steal one more moment, just one. But then he saw the all too familiar look on Louis’ face and his happiness fell away in an instant. The bad news face. The there’s-something-I-should-have-told-you face. The I-love-you-but-that’s-not-enough face. It was the same look he had on his face that first morning he had broken Harry’s heart.

“What?” Harry’s voice was flat, and Louis felt his own heart constrict.

He never meant to hurt Harry.

It was never his intent.

But he kept doing it all the same.

“I wanted to tell you,” Louis started.

“Don’t. Don’t make excuses. Just tell me what it is.”

But Louis didn’t have to tell him, because as he and Louis stood there, on the precipice, yet again, a black town car pulled up, and out stepped Louis’ girlfriend. “Hi guys,” she said, ignoring the fact that she had obviously stepped into a rather fraught moment. She always seemed to ignore that bit.

She walked over to them, and Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from exploding. He didn’t really understand how Louis did it. How he was able to so easily slip into and out of his roles. It made him seem disingenuous, though Harry knew that wasn’t really the case. He knew it wasn’t really so simple, but it didn’t make it any easier, or make it hurt any less.

“Can you give us a minute,” Louis said after kissing her on the cheek.

“Sure.”

“No need,” Harry said, struggling to keep the emotion out of his voice. “We’re done here. Eleanor,” he said, nodding at her, because he couldn’t think of anything else to do, and ignoring Louis completely, strode across the parking lot and through the stage doors.

“Where’ve you been?” Niall asked as Harry walked through the door.  
“Nowhere,” Harry said gruffly. All of his earlier happiness had faded in one fell swoop and now he was just tired and dirty and sad. Miserable, really.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“What is this? Twenty questions?” he shot back. Niall was taken aback by Harry’s uncharacteristically rude attitude and with a look of irritation decided to ignore him entirely. “Harry, you’re running late,” someone else said from across the room. He ignored it and kept walking. “Harry!”

“I just need a shower,” he mumbled and walked into bathroom, peeling off his clothes as he went. His back was sore and his hands ached, but all he could think about was the way his chest felt: tight and empty. He felt lost.

He sought solace in the hot, pounding water, and it was only then that he let it come, the anger and the hurt, and he let the tears fall as he rested his forehead against the cool tile while the room filled with steam. He felt so devastated that he didn’t even have the energy to compose himself when he heard someone walk in to the locker room. He didn’t care who it was or who saw him this way. It didn’t matter.

“Harry.”

It was Louis. He was standing a few feet away, unsure about approaching Harry. Harry lifted his head and looked at him. “What are you doing here?” He made no effort to hide his red eyes or the tears on his face; he wanted Louis to see him this way.

“I wanted to talk to you, and this is the only place.” As if Harry wasn’t vulnerable enough, now he was standing naked under the shower, feeling worse than he had in years. He was sure he looked like a mess, but he didn’t care. And it didn’t really matter because Louis thought he looked beautiful even when he was so sad. He just wished he hadn’t been the one to make him feel this way. He wished he could be the one to make it better instead of always making it worse. Still, Louis walked toward him, shut off the water and handed him a towel. He didn’t try to touch him or comfort him. He knew he didn’t have the right.

“I’m sorry.”

Harry said nothing.

“I know I should have told you. I’m sorry I didn’t. I just…. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry.”

Louis had come in planning to say something else, something more, but it all seemed stupid now. “Yes. I wanted to tell you.”

“No, you didn’t. Obviously.”

“Fine. You’re right,” Louis conceded after a moment’s hesitation. “I didn’t want to tell you. We’ve had such a lovely time, and last night was so perfect. I didn’t want to ruin it. I’m sick of having to always give you bad news. I’m tired of our time together always being dragged down by the weight of all of these other things. I wanted to have you all to myself for as long as I could, and I didn’t want to bring her into it.”

“That’s a nice sentiment, Lou, but you don’t know how it feels,” Harry told him, feeling it again, that punch to the gut. “You don’t know how it feels to be so happy and then have it ripped away in an instant.”

“That isn’t true, Harry. And you know it.” Louis knew all too well how it felt. And part of him wanted to attack Harry, to remind him of his own indiscretions (if they could be called that in this complicated web they had spun) but he knew it would do no good.

“Don’t do that. Don’t turn this around on me. This whole time, you got to know that it was ending, you could prepare, be ready. You were ready. And, on top of that, you get to go off and have someone else to comfort you. Who do I have, Louis? I have no one.”

“That’s not true.”

“No? Don’t lie to me. Who do I have?”

“You have me,” Louis said, though he knew it was a poor effort.

“No I don’t, Louis. I have no one. That’s who I have. At the end of the day, I have no one.”

Harry sounded resigned, which, for Louis, was worse than being angry. His voice, though unsteady, was quite calm. Louis stepped toward Harry, and while he didn’t back away, it was obviously he wasn’t going to meet him half-way either.

“What do you expect me to do? This can’t have been a surprise.”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand how we could have two weeks together like that, and then...nothing. I thought things were changing.”

“Things were changing? What gave you that idea? I am contractually obligated to have a girlfriend. Would you prefer if I had a different one every month?”

“I bought us a house,” Harry whispered.

“And I love you for it,” Louis answered.

“Whatever,” Harry said, pushing past him.

“Harry, wait,” Louis called after him, but he had already left the room. Louis had so much more he had meant to say, but he couldn’t blame Harry for not giving him the chance.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’ve got a meeting,” Louis said to her as they drove back to the hotel.  

He was exhausted.  He had suffered through a week of shows, a week of traveling to 5 different cities, a week entertaining his girlfriend.  

A week of Harry ignoring him.

It had not been a good week.  He had not been able to put his mind to anything except worrying over Harry.  He sang the words he was supposed to sing; he said the things he was supposed to say.  He held Eleanor’s hand and smiled for the fans and kicked the ball around with his friends.  He tried to smile and to laugh and to pretend like everything was okay, but it was not, and he needed to find a way to fix it.  If there was such a thing.

He had thought that Harry was just angry and that he would come around like he usually did, that maybe he just needed some space and some time, but after a week of ignored smiles and careful avoidance, Louis knew it was more.  

They always had their secret moments, times when no one was quite watching, when they might exchange a smile for a few words, but not this week.  Harry had not only avoided him in a professional way, but in a personal one as well.  He followed the choreography perfectly and never even looked in Louis’ direction.  When they walked past each other, Harry looked the other way; when they were backstage, Harry made a point to avoid him.  When the show was done and the lights were off and they walked back toward the cars that would take them to the next hotel, Harry would walk the other way, throw his leg over his motorcycle--a new one that Louis hadn’t seen before; a fast one; a dangerous one--and disappear.

It drove Louis mad, and he was determined to make this right, somehow.  

Louis had finally cornered him backstage, trotting up next to him as Harry moved quickly toward the bathroom.  “Harry.”    
“What?”

“Can we talk?”

“Right now?  We’ve got like thirty seconds.”

“Harry.”

“Louis.”  Harry had slammed the door shut and Louis was left standing awkwardly outside of the door until Harry had come back out again.

“Harry, I can’t stand this.  Can’t you look at me?”

Harry had stopped and looked at Louis.  “I’m sorry you’re having a hard time, being ignored and all.  I have no clue what that’s like.”

The sarcasm in Harry’s voice had not been lost on him.  “That’s unfair.”

Harry had rolled his eyes at him and walked back on stage without another word.  

Which is why he found himself lying to Eleanor now.  He had wanted to run after Harry, but Eleanor had caught him before he had had the chance.

“A meeting?  In the middle of the night?”

“It’s the only chance we have,” Louis lied smoothly.  “We’re swamped with shows and recording, and we’ve got to squeeze this in.”

“Can’t I just come with you then?”

“No, I’ll drop you at the hotel first.”  They were staying apart from the others, tucked away in a private hotel, the loved up couple preferring a quiet retreat for their reunion.  “I’m sure you’re tired, and who knows how long this will take.”

“We have so little time.  I’m leaving in a few days,” she said.  “Is there any way you can postpone it?”

“There’s not,” he lied again.  “But I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

In the past, he might have felt guilty about it, but not now.  Not anymore.

Before he knew it, he was knocking on Harry’s door, unsure of what he’d find, but hoping that Harry would be alone.  

He wasn’t.

Harry pulled the door open, and the hallway was flooded with the sound of some band that Louis recognized from Harry’s ipod, though he couldn’t name them if he tried.  The room was hazy with smoke, odd for Harry, and there were at least a dozen people there.  Some of whom Louis recognized, most he did not.  Like the waifish blond girl who was currently hanging on Harry, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, while she looked up at him adoringly.

“What are you doing here?” Harry said, his voice louder than normal, the smile on his face more fake that Louis had ever seen.

“I needed--uh, I thought we had a meeting,” Louis said, caught off guard by the apparent party.  He had expected to find Harry alone.  Or at the very least not drunk and with a room full of groupies.  “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” he asked, pushing his way into the room.  He nodded to those people he recognized, but kept close to Harry.

“This is…..” Harry looked down at the girl, quite obviously unsure of her name.  

“I’m Valerie,” she chirped, so enamoured to be hanging out with Harry that she didn’t care that he had no clue what her name might be.

“Nice to meet you, Valerie,” Louis said, offering his hand.  He didn’t bother giving her his name.  It was better if she didn’t know.  “Mind if I have a chat with Harry?  I promise I’ll return him in just a moment.”  

Valerie pouted, but released Harry and wandered back to her friends, giggling the whole way.  “Quite a keeper, that one,” Louis quipped as he watched Harry.  “What’s going on here?”

“What does it look like?”

“Look, Harry,” Louis started, but stopped again to glance around the room.  “Can we go in the other room and talk?”

“I’d rather not,” Harry said.  Louis took a step toward him and Harry rocked away, unsteady on his feet.  

“Careful,” Louis said protectively, reaching out to grab Harry’s arm, to keep him from falling into the wall.  

Harry wrenched his arm away and ignored Louis.  “You’re moment is up,” Harry slurred.  “Valerie,” he called, the name sloppy on his tongue.  He motioned with his arm and Valerie came running, eager to oblige.  Harry knew that she would do anything he wanted, and while it gave him very little satisfaction, it would serve his purposes just the same.  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and kissed her on the mouth as if she was the only one he wanted to be kissing at that very moment.  

Louis watched, disgusted.  It was never easy to see Harry with someone else, and he wondered, not for the first time, if Harry felt the same way when he saw him with Eleanor.  It made his head spin.  When Harry had finished his tasteless display he looked up at Louis and Louis could tell that whatever Harry had expected to see, or to feel, he hadn’t.  

“Let’s go, baby,” Valerie said against Harry’s shoulder, but he had already dropped his arm.  

“I’ll tell you what, Valerie,” Louis told her.  “Give me and Harry here one more minute, and then he’s all yours, okay?  Why don’t you go grab another drink?”  Valerie didn’t move this time, but glared at Louis instead, obviously pissed about his efforts to forestall her getting Harry alone.  Louis rolled his eyes at her and pulled Harry away.  

“Is this really what you want to do,” he asked him, his words low and sharp.

Harry remained stubbornly silent as he slumped against the wall.

“I left Eleanor at her hotel to come here and see you.  I lied to her about where I was going, what I was doing.  Because I couldn’t stand for you to be mad at me.  Because I wanted to see you, to be with you, to talk to you.  If you want to spend the night with Valerie or one of her friends, fine.  But if you do that, don’t be angry when I go back to Eleanor.  You can’t have it both ways.”  Louis stepped closer.  “Tell me to leave, and I will.”

Harry wanted to tell him to leave.

He wanted to tell Louis to go and to have a nice night with Eleanor.

He wanted to take Valerie to bed and forget for a while.

To forget what it felt like to love someone he couldn’t quite have.

To forget what if felt like to love someone at all.  

To have something easy, enjoyable, forgettable.

But he couldn’t.  

And he couldn’t lie to Louis.

Whatever was between them, Harry never lied to Louis.

Harry shook his head at Louis and retreated to the bedroom, where Louis followed, unconcerned with the people who might see them.

Harry flopped on the bed.  “What are we going to do, Lou?  I can’t stand this.”

“I don’t know.”

Louis had been so sure of things a week ago.  He had been buoyed by Harry’s attention and excitement and his freedom, they way he seemed to be saying “fuck you” to everyone.  Things had seemed so possible.  Their short break, in all of its perfection, seemed a lifetime away now.  Getting back to work in combination with Eleanor’s arrival had brought that into sharp focus.  

It just seemed so simple when it was just the two of them; when no one was watching, he could be himself.  

But when it wasn’t just the two of them, when he was faced with reality, he just didn’t know what to do.  He hated this side of things.  He hated upset and reckless Harry.  He hated these shady couplings in hotel rooms and tour busses.  He hated living this double life.  It had been okay at first, even exciting, the secretiveness, but now it wasn’t fun at all.

“Things have been so perfect,” Harry said.  Perfect might have been stretching it, but not by much.  “And then she has to come along and ruin it.”

“It’s not her fault,” Louis said quietly.  

It wasn’t Eleanor’s fault at all.  It was his, and his alone.  His because he signed a contract that required this of him; his because he wasn’t ready, wasn’t sure of what he wanted; his because he couldn’t just let Harry go.  He couldn’t just let Harry be free.

“Were you really going to sleep with that girl?”

“Valerie?”  

“Yes.”  

Harry shrugged.  “Probably would have, if you hadn’t shown up.”

The thought of Harry being with other people always made Louis feel a particular way: sad and lonely and sort of dizzy and out of control.  But being up close to it made him feel especially sick.  He liked to pretend it didn’t exist, and Harry was usually pretty discreet. But things were shifting more suddenly than usual and Louis didn’t like it at all.  “A week ago we were in bed together in a house that you bought for me, for us.”

“I know.”

“And now you are taking random girls to bed?  Is that where you’ve been disappearing to all week?”

“No.”

“Am I supposed to believe you?”

“Why would I lie?  I just told you I was going to have sex with Valerie if you hadn’t shown up.  Why would I lie about any other night?”

“To make it seem less….”

“Less what?  Less bad?  Less awful?  Less depressing?  Less pathetic?”

It was Louis’ turn to shrug.  “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Lou.  I wasn’t expecting you.  I assumed you were spending the night with Eleanor.”

“You haven’t even so much as looked at me in a week, Harry.”

“Can you blame me?”

“I don’t know Harry.  Sometimes, yes, I think I can.”

“We have an agreement, Lou.  You can’t just change your mind when you feel like it.”

“It’s one thing to know it might happen, Harry.  It’s another entirely to watch you make out with some random girl a few inches from my face.”

“And I supposed you think it’s perfectly lovely for me to watch you go home with your girlfriend every night, to know what you do with her?  To watch her smile at you?  To smell her on you?”

“No.”

“Do you think it’s easy to want to touch you every moment of every day, that it is simple for me to avoid staring at you, following every move you make?  I told you from the beginning, that other stuff means nothing.  Those other girls, other boys.  They mean nothing.”

Louis knew that wasn’t entirely true, but it was subject neither of them were willing to broach.  It had already cost them too much. “I just can’t bear to have you so mad with me.  And of course I’d rather be with you….  I wish I could be here with you, all of the time.”

Harry sat up on his knees and moved toward where Louis was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to Harry.  He wrapped his arms around Louis and nuzzled into his neck, Lou’s untamed hair tickling his cheek.  

“You’re here now.” He kissed Louis just under his jaw, letting his lips rest there against the vein in Louis’ neck until he felt his pulse quicken in response.  He had to work hard to keep his lips from twisting into a grin; it always made him smile, the way it look little more than a perfectly placed kiss, to incite Louis.  But even as his pulse quickened, Louis remained stolid and unmoving.  Silent.  

Harry sat back on his heels, staring at the back of Louis’ head for a moment, before sliding his arms around him once again, his long fingers steady as they grabbed the hem of Louis’ shirt, deft as they slid across the bare skin of Louis’ stomach.

“Come on, Lou,” he said quietly.  “You know that none of them matter.  You know it doesn’t count.”

 ****

  _“Can we go out tonight?”  Harry was bouncing off the walls.  He had gotten so used to being busy all the time that staying in sometimes felt like torture._

_“I’m supposed to go out with Eleanor,” Louis said from the adjoining room._

_“Ugh, can’t you just blow her off?”_

_“I don’t know,” Louis said.  “I can’t blow her off AND be seen out with you.  Maybe if I said I was sick or something….”_

_“I don’t want to say in.  Can’t you just tell her you already had other plans?”_

_“This date has been arranged for months, so no, I can’t.”_

_“Months?  You arrange dates months in advance?”  It was all Harry could do not to laugh._

_“Don’t make fun, Harry.  And no, not always.”_

_“Louis, just call her, tell her that you aren’t feeling well, and we’ll go to that little pub down the street.  No one will notice us.  I promise.”_

_“You can’t make a promise like that.  People always see us.  And every time someone sees us, we have to do so much damage control, they’ll probably have me and El married by Christmas.”_

_“Well that’s an awful thought.”_

_“Isn’t it?”_

_“Well, I’m not going to sit here alone while you’re out with her.  I’m going to find someone to go out with me.”_

_“Don’t,” Louis said, knowing he didn’t have the right.  “I won’t be out that late, if you’d just wait for me….” He looked at Harry and knew that he couldn’t ask that of him.  It wasn’t fair to expect him to sit at home alone and wait.  “Nevermind.  I’ll tell her I’m sick.  But we have to stay home.  It’s the best I can do.”_

_And that’s was Louis did.  He called Eleanor, apologized for cancelling their plans, and then he and Harry picked a movie and made popcorn, and cuddled under a blanket on the sofa their mothers had picked out together.  But just as they had settled in, there was a knock on the door.  It was surprising, because they rarely had unannounced visitors.  Their security team wouldn’t allow it.  Which meant it was someone they knew._

_Harry bounded toward the door, hoping it was Niall or one of the others, and looked through the peephole._

_Eleanor.  Holding what appeared to be soup.  Of course._

_“It’s for you,” he called into the living room and disappeared up the stairs.  He slammed his door, not wanting to hear the conversation going on downstairs.  Instead, he took a quick shower and put on some fresh clothes and bounded down the steps again._

_“Where are you going?” Louis asked from the living room._

_“Out,” was all Harry said before he slammed the door._

_Louis waited for him, for hours, and was startled awake from his resting place on the sofa as Harry made a racket coming in.  He untangled himself from the blanket and scrambled off the sofa, trying to meet Harry at the door, but he didn’t make it in time, instead only heard Harry’s heavy footfalls as he ran up the stairs, and then a door slam shut._

_He didn’t blame Harry for going out, but he didn’t quite understand why he was behaving this way now.  All he knew was that something didn’t feel quite right._

_He walked up the stairs quickly, but then slowed his pace as he walked down the hallway, growing more wary with each step he took, until finally he arrived at the door to Harry’s room, the room that they usually shared._

_He started to knock but when he heard Harry’s muffled sobs from behind the door, he pushed the door open.  Harry was lying on the bed, face down in the ruffled covers, his body racked with sobs.  Louis sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hand flat against Harry’s back._

_“Harry, what’s wrong?”_

_“Just go away,” Harry muttered against the bed._

_“I will not,” Louis said, and instead waited there, his hand on Harry, waiting.  In the end, he wished he hadn’t._

_“Is she here?”_

_“No, she only stayed for a little while, and then I insisted she leave.”_

_“Oh,” Harry said, and then started crying again in full force, feeling even worse that he already did._

_“Harry, come on, you’re scaring me.”_

_Harry thought that Louis was right to be scared, because what he had done he couldn’t undo, and no matter how much he regretted it, he couldn’t take it back.  But he couldn’t keep it from Louis either.  He sat up quickly, and wiped his face before looking directly at Louis._

_“I was really mad that she showed up here, Louis.  Really mad.  Like, can’t-even-explain-how-mad-I-was mad.”_

_“I know--”_

_“No, don’t, okay?  Please don’t.”  Harry couldn’t stand for Louis to take on an apologetic tone with him, not now.  Not after what he had done.  “I was really mad, and that wasn’t an excuse, but it just felt so unfair at that moment, when I thought I’d have you to myself, finally.  After all of these months of working, and being on tour, and having to hide, and sneak around, all I wanted was to have a normal night with you.  And I couldn’t bear to be here in the same house with the two of you, while she fed you soup and fawned over you, for a fake illness, no less._

_But whatever.  That’s not the point.  Because tonight, I went this party.  And--and I met someone, and we were talking, and drinking and--”_

_“Don’t,” Louis said, standing up, but Harry reach out and took hold of his hand and pulled him back._

_“Louis, I’m sorry.  We didn’t--I mean, we just kissed.  It was just kissing, and, I feeling fucking awful.”_

_“So because my fake girlfriend showed up with some soup, you went out and hooked up with some random girl, is that it?”_

_“It wasn’t a girl,” Harry said quietly, his voice shaking._

_For some reason that Louis couldn't quite understand, that made it even worse.  And it made it more real._

_“All because she showed up, is it?”_

_“It’s not her fault,” Harry said quietly.  “As much as I would like to blame this on her, that wouldn’t really be fair, would it?”_

_“No, I suppose not,” Louis agreed.  “What are we going to do Harry?”_

_“I don’t know.  But this, it didn’t matter.  It didn’t mean anything, please believe me.”_

_He believed that Harry didn’t think it meant anything, but Louis knew better._

 ****

“Where are you?”  

“Hm?”  Louis didn’t immediately recognize the voice on the other end of the line and squinted at the screen to see the name.  It was Cedric, his body guard.

“Where the fuck are you,” Cedric said, more angry and louder this time.  Cedric’s attitude brought Louis to attention quickly, as the likely reason for his call came into focus.  He rolled away from Harry and spoke lowly into the phone.

“What’s up, Cedric?”

“What’s up is that I show up for my shift, Eleanor is alone, wondering where you are, and I don’t know what the fuck to tell her.  She said she called you a few times but you didn’t answer.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” Cedric reiterated.  “Where are you?”

“I’m-”

“You know what, I don’t want to know.”

“What did you say to her?”  

“Nothing.  I just got here.  I played dumb.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Look.  I told her where I was.  I had a meeting last night after the show.”

“A meeting.”  Cedric was not a fool, and he would have been made aware of any official meetings..  

“Yes.  An impromptu meeting.  It went late.  I didn’t want to disturb her.  Tell her I’ll be there in...an hour.”  He was reluctant, but it had to be done.  With little more than a grunt from Cedric, he hung up and sent a quick message to Eleanor, letting her know that he would be back soon.  When he had sent it, he rolled over to face Harry.  He was not surprised to see Harry’s green eyes alert and watching him.  

“You have to go, don’t you,” Harry said.  It wasn’t really a question but there was something so pitiful about it and it made Louis’ heart ache.  Harry reached over and put his hand on Louis’ face, brushing the hair off of his forehead.  “It’s okay.”

Louis hated that he was always the one leaving.  He shifted closer to Harry, desperate to make the most of these last few minutes, but before he could, his phone rang again.

“What?” he answered, not even bothering to check to see who it might be.  He should have.

“What in god’s name do you think you’re doing?”

Louis mumbled curses under his breath and sat up quickly.  “It’s Lisa,” he whispered to Harry.  Harry flopped over on his back.  “Great.”

“Did I just hear Harry?”

“Uh.”

“What the fuck Louis?  What have you done?”

“I haven’t done anything,” he said to her.  

“You are wrong on that count, Lou.  We’ve got a problem.”

“What sort of problem?”  Lisa had a tendency to be alarmist so Louis wasn’t really certain that there was anything at all to worry about.  

“Put me on speaker.”

“Why?”

“I know you’re with Harry, so cut the bullshit, and put me on speaker.”

Louis did as he was told, realizing that maybe Lisa wasn’t over reacting.  If she knew he was with Harry, and it was something they both needed to hear, there’s no way this could be good.

“Hello, Lisa, how’s the baby?” Harry said easily.  He was sprawled on his back, his hands clasped behind his head.  

“Save your pleasantries.”

“Oh, come on, it can’t be all that bad,” Harry said.

“Let me lay it out for you,” she began, and they rolled their eyes at each other.  “As you are well aware, I couldn’t care less what goes on behind closed doors.  But there are certain expectations we have, and you both know what they are.  What happened last night was unacceptable.  We have fan footage of you going into your hotel last night with Eleanor, Louis.  And then moments later, you are leaving again, alone.”

“So?  It’s not like it’s that odd.  Maybe I went to a bar or something.”

“Maybe.  Or maybe, we know that you showed up at the other hotel, at a party that Harry was hosting.”

“Shit,” Harry said, sitting up now.  

“Maybe we also know that a rather flighty girl named Valerie was at this party and had her sights set on Harry.  She was quite confused when another band member, ‘Lewis’, she thinks, but isn’t one hundred percent sure, showed up to the party and disappeared into a bedroom with Harry.”

“Christ.”  

“Not only that, but she and her friends continued to hang out for several hours, during which neither Harry nor ‘Lewis’ re-emerged from the bedroom.  At which point, pissed at being jilted, she left the hotel and told half the world about her night.”  

She was met with silence.  

“Look, Louis, Eleanor may buy your bullshit, but I don’t.  I don’t give a fuck if you two spent the week in LA together.  I don’t care if you think you had a nice romantic motorcycle ride through the desert hills or whatever the fuck shit you two did out there.  But this is unacceptable.  Entirely unacceptable.”  She paused for dramatic effect.  “So, what are we going to do about it?”

Louis couldn’t bring himself to look at Harry, though he felt Harry’s eyes on him.  He knew what Harry would suggest.  And he knew that he wouldn’t be able to agree.  Harry reached out and touched his bare shoulder.  “Lou?”

He shook his head, unable to meet Harry’s eye.  “We can’t.”

Harry’s hand dropped away.

“No answers?”  She hadn’t heard their exchange.  “Of course not.  Which is why this is my job, and not yours.  And why, when you are supposed to be somewhere, you need to BE there.  This was really sloppy.  I’d been letting all of this other stuff slide, because it was pretty well under wraps.  A little gossip doesn’t hurt.  But this is just way out there.  It is too out there.  It is UNACCEPTABLY out there.  The two of you in an open relationship is not going to fly.  Thank god you realize that Louis, even if Harry refuses.”

“Now wait a minute,” Louis began.  He may have agreed with Lisa, but that didn’t mean she needed to be rude.  

“Fix it,” she said, cutting Louis off.  “I don’t care what it takes.”

Harry flopped back on the bed again, staring at the ceiling and grinding his teeth.  He let Lisa’s words settle for a moment before he spoke.

“I still think we should just say fuck it and let the chips fall where they may.”

“We can’t.”

“Louis, we make these people millions of dollars.  Sure, they might be pissed, but what would they really do?  Drop us?  Fire us?  Yeah right.  Now is the time.”

“We.  Can’t.”

Harry opened his mouth to give Louis a dozen other reasons why he thought they could, but then he realized what was Louis was actually saying.  “Nevermind.”

“Harry.  I’m sorry.”

“I know.  I get it.  Nevermind.”  
“I just….”

“Lou, it’s fine,” Harry insisted.  “I understand.”  Harry did understand, just like he understood so many other things.  He didn’t necessarily like it, but what could he do?  

“We can’t just leave it this way, though.”

“No.”

“There’s not much time.”  

“Just...just.  Ugh.  I hate this,” Harry said, burying his face in his hands.  

“I just don’t see a way out.”

“There is a way out, Louis,” Harry reminded him though they had just been through it.  

“Please stop,” Louis asked quietly.  “Please.  You know I can’t.  I know that it is a lot to ask of you, to hide yourself for my sake, when I do nothing, give you nothing in return.  But I cannot take that path.  I’m not ready.  You know that.  It is too much of a risk, and maybe you are willing to take that risk, but I am not.”

It stung when Louis said things like that.  It was hard not to take it personally.  It was hard to remind himself of all the reasons, so many of which made sense, that they could not just be themselves and be together.  But no matter how often he reminded him of all of the reasons, at the core, it still just felt like Louis didn’t quite love him enough.

“Louis.  I don’t know if I can keep doing this.  I can’t keep hiding who I am.”

“I know.  Maybe you don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but then what?  What about you?  What about us?  It would just fuel the rumors, make everyone mad.  Would they even let me?  I don’t even think I could do it without you, Lou.”

“You’ve gotta stop thinking that way, love.  You can do anything you want to do.  And you can do it alone.  Without me, if you need to.  If you want to.  I don’t want to hold you back.  I think I’ve done enough of that already,” he added sadly.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

“Is everything alright?”  Eleanor barely looked up as Louis walked into the room.  She wasn’t sure she wanted to see the look on his face.  She had only been here a short time and had already seen too many looks that she wished she hadn’t.

She had seen the look on Harry’s face when she showed up outside of the stadium; and she had seen Louis’ too.  She had noticed, from the safety of her car with the tinted windows, the way that they had looked before she had stepped out of the car: the way Harry’s face had practically glowed and then fallen in an instant, the way Louis’ lips were pressed together tightly and the way his eyes narrowed as he turned to look at her.

And she had seen the look on Harry’s face when he walked out of the bathroom, his face flat and emotionless, and his red eyes that told the truth.  He tried to blame it on dust, allergies, or exhaustion; Eleanor had listened carefully to the various excuses he had given.  None of them rang true.  When she saw the look on Louis’ face when he had come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, she had known that something had changed.

When Louis had told her he had a meeting to go to, in what was essentially the middle of the night, she had tried to be understanding.  

When she had fallen asleep just before dawn and he had not come back, her heart sank.  

When she woke up to the mid-morning light flooding her well appointed hotel room and the other side of the bed was cold, she knew.

It made her feel dizzy, like her world was spinning out of control. It had been a long time since she had felt like that.

She had been looking forward to this trip for months, having worked hard to finish school, spending her free time looking for jobs and trying to catch Louis, who never seemed to have more than a few minutes for a chat.  But these handful of moments since she had arrived, stacking up against one another quickly, pointed out the real reason that Louis had been so distant, and she knew now that she had made a mistake.  She had been lulled into a sense of security, had felt her absence from this tour would have little impact, but she could see now that she was wrong.

She wanted to kick herself for being so complacent.

But she was not the same naive girl that she was two years ago, when she had resolved to be what Louis wanted her to be.  It had been difficult at first, never knowing where she stood or what her role was, but as their relationship progressed, she gained a confidence she hadn’t had before, and she trusted that she was more than a convenience for Louis, believed that what they had was real.  Alone in the early morning light, with no reason to lie to herself, she knew that Louis loved her.  And that she would not be the one to let go.  If Louis wanted to end it, well, that was fine and good, but until he did, she was here to stay, and she wouldn’t let go without a fight.

So when she had walked into the hallway and was met with bullshit excuses from the security guard, she had smiled like she believed him and made her way to the gym.  She had run 8 miles and came back to the room where she had showered and dried her hair and read a magazine and waited until Louis came back to her, just like he always did.  

“Everything is fine,” Louis answered her.  He had walked into the room and then stopped in the center, just past where she was sitting, so she couldn’t quite see his face after all.  He looked lost, like until this very moment he had known exactly where he was going, but then realized that he hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings at all.   

“Have you already showered?” She asked.

“No.”  

She knew he was lying; she could smell Harry’s shampoo, could see where the collar of his t-shirt was still damp from his hair.  But instead of pointing these things out, she just nodded.  “Why don’t you shower, then,” she said to him.  “And then we’ll go have some lunch.”  She watched as he walked into the bathroom without a word.  His shoulders were hunched, and he barely picked up his feet and she wondered if she ever influenced his mood so much, if he ever missed her so much that he couldn’t smile, if he was ever so devastated to have to leave her.  

She didn’t doubt that he loved her.  But she did wonder if he loved her as much as he so obviously loved Harry.

Eleanor knew.  Of course she knew.  She had known for a long time.  She could see it in the way they looked at each other, felt it in the way that Harry was always kind to her, but never quite as friendly as one would have expected.  She always felt like the outsider when Harry was around, and at first she thought that maybe he just didn’t like her, but then, when she started paying more attention, it all became much more clear.

They fought about it, she and Louis.  

Once.

****

_Something was wrong.  Eleanor knew it.  Something had been wrong this entire time, but she couldn’t quite understand it, until now.  Harry barely said hello when she walked in to their house on New Years Eve, and the way that Louis was all but ignoring her.  She thought that maybe they were just busy with the one hundred guests that had been invited to the party.  She told herself that Louis didn’t intentionally abandon her with no one to talk to.  She tried to convince herself that she was imagining it, the way Louis kept laughing at Harry’s lame jokes, or how his hand always seemed to be resting on Harry’s back._

_She had been telling herself that she had imagined things for a long time.  She thought that maybe it was the insecurity of having a boyfriend on tour, being apart for sometimes months on end, or that maybe it was seeing the tabloid rumors, or maybe just her own insecurities.  She always felt like the third wheel when Harry was around, but chalked that up to them spending so much time together on tour.  It made sense that they would be close._

_But it was obvious that it was more than that as she watched from her quiet corner.  Harry and Louis moved through the room, hosting the party together and they seemed so absolutely coupley, while she was left to her own devices.   It should have been her decorations that their friends were complimenting, her food that they were enjoying.  It should have been her who was greeting their guests, her who was giving tours of their home together--a home they didn’t have yet, and she had begun to fear, never would._

_It should have been her._

_It should have been her who disappeared with Louis once the guests had made themselves at home._

_But it wasn’t.  It was Harry._

_It was Harry who disappeared upstairs with Louis.  She had watched as they had led their most recent guests up the stairs to show off the second floor, had noticed as those guests came back downstairs, had realized that Harry and Louis had not returned with them.  After five minutes, she started to wonder.  After ten minutes, she was more than suspicious.  And after 20 minutes, when they finally reappeared, Harry’s curls not quite so neat, and Louis shirt not quite tucked, she knew._

_She wanted to throw up._

_She made her way quickly to the powder room, splashing water on her face, willing herself to be calm._

_She didn’t know what to do.  She didn’t know how to stop this.  She couldn’t believe this was happening._

_She loved him.  She had already given up so much to be with him.  She had given up being normal, unrecognized.  She had cried herself to sleep over hateful messages and jeering fans before she had finally resolved not to let it bother her.  And to think that it had all been for nothing, had all been a shame, was more than she thought she could stand._

_She wanted to ignore it, but she couldn’t._

_She steeled herself for whatever might come, and when she left the bathroom, she found Louis standing there._

_“Eleanor, are you alright?  Someone said you weren’t feeling well.”_

_She looked at him, and had to stop herself from laughing in his face.  “I’m not,” she told him.  “I’d like to go.”_

_“Go?  Is something wrong?”_

_“I don’t feel well, and I’d like to go.”_

_“Would you like to go upstairs and lie down?”_

_She could only imagine what had gone on up there, and it was the last place she wanted to be.  It made her stomach twist.  “Please, can we go?  Get a hotel or something?”_

_She had to be away from this place, had to figure out just what was happening and what she could do about it._

_“Okay, okay,” he said, happy enough to appease her that she thought she might be imagining the rest of it.  “Let me just let Harry know.”_

_She grabbed his sleeve.  “I’m sure Harry will be fine without you.”  She watched as his eyes stopped scanning the room abruptly._

_“Oh.  Right.  I’m sure you’re right.”_

_Louis obliged by finding her coat and her overnight bag, and he called a driver to come and take them away.  They rode in silence until they got to the hotel where they had stayed before.  In more recent months, they often stayed in hotels.  She never quite understood it before, but it made sense to her now.  How many nights she had laid in a bed that Louis had shared with Harry, how many nights Harry has slept quietly on the other side of the wall, or perhaps not slept at all, wishing she didn’t exist?_

_She walked into the room, her legs feeling shaky and she watched as Louis put her bag down on the bed._

_“Are you feeling better?  Do you need a drink?  Something to eat?”_

_“Is there something going on between you and Harry?”  The question was abrupt, out of the blue; her plan was to catch him off guard.  It didn’t work._

_He laughed as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.  “Are you serious?”_

_“Yes.  I’m serious.”_

_“Why would you even think something like that?”_

_“That party, Louis.  You ignored me.  You and Harry worked that room like you were an old married couple.”_

_“We are just good friends, El.  And we live together, and work together.  We can’t help it if we’re close.”_

_“So close that you disappear upstairs for a good thirty minutes and come back obviously disheveled?”_

_She could tell Louis was taken aback by her confrontational approach.  She eyed him warily as he walked toward her, his face softening with every step.  “Darling, please, don’t be ridiculous.”_

_“Don’t call me ridiculous, Louis.”_

_“I don’t mean to call you ridiculous, it’s just...it’s a...a ridiculous notion and there is no reason for you to be upset over nothing.”_

_“It’s not nothing.”_

_“It is.  It is nothing,” he said more seriously._

_She couldn’t look at him._

_“El, listen.  I know this is hard, and I won’t deny that Harry and I are close.  We are.  But it’s hard sometimes.  Please don’t fault me for having a friend like Harry.  I know it is hard having to hear the rumors, having to be apart for such long stretches, having people hate you, but please believe me when I say that I want you here with me.”_

_She wanted to believe him, more than anything, but she wasn’t sure she could.  She had gotten used to the rumors, she didn’t even particularly mind the hateful things that people said about her on a daily basis now, but to think that they were all for nothing, so that she could be some sort of distraction or cover up made them harder to face._

_“Eleanor, please, don’t be mad at me.  This is not easy for any of us.  I know it’s not easy for you either.  Please trust me when I say that I want to make this work between us.”_

_She wanted to believe him.  And his argument was so convincing that she almost did._

_But there was a moment.  Just one little thing that she said, one remark, a dig, really, if she was being honest, at Harry’s expense, that she couldn’t help but make._

_“I guess it is pretty difficult being adored by millions of people,” she said sarcastically.  “I mean, look what it’s doing to Harry, he is with a different girl every night.  He certainly doesn’t need to keep you around for company these days, which is why this whole thing is so odd.”_

_She said it to be hateful.  She didn’t know what it would accomplish, but Louis’ reaction told her everything she needed to know._

_He probably didn’t even realized the way he flinched when the words came out of her mouth, didn’t know that she would see the way that he stiffened, and the way that he blinked too slowly, but it spoke volumes to her._

_“Please don’t talk about him that way,” Louis said quietly._

_And in the end, that is how she knew that she hadn’t imagined anything at all._

_She wondered if Louis noticed the way she bit her lip to keep from screaming, the way she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down.  But when she opened her eyes again, Louis was staring at the floor._

_“Tell me the truth Louis.  Do you want to be with me or not?”_

_He looked up at her.  “Yes.  I do.”  He reached for her hand and pulled her toward him, but she resisted for a moment, her mind still reeling.  She didn’t understand what was happening.  But she loved him and the way he looked at her, the way he tugged her hand gently was irresistible, and so she wiped her eyes and crawled into the bed, let him wrap his arms around her, took solace in the way he presses his lips to the back of her neck and promised that he cared for her._

_The day after their argument, she woke early and packed her bags.  She let Louis kiss her on the forehead and rub her back in that sleepy way he had in the early mornings._

_She held herself together as she walked out of the hotel, and as she rode to the airport and while she waited to board the plane._

_And then, in the relative safety of her seat on the plane, where everyone else was sleepy and oblivious and didn’t know who she was, she let the tears come._

_She cried because she loved Louis.  She cried because she wanted him to love her.  She cried because she loved Louis enough to want him to have everything his heart desired, and she cried because he couldn’t._

_She cried for a long time.  Heavy, silent tears that soaked her face and her hair and the collar of her shirt._

_By the end of her long flight, she had made up her mind:  she would be whatever Louis needed her to be._

_She called him when she had made it home.  “I just want you to know, Louis, that I’m sorry about our argument last night.  And that I love you, no matter what.  And I will be here for you, however you want me, whenever you want me.”_

****

“So, I was thinking,” Eleanor said out loud, in the quiet dressing room, before their show.  

“Have you?” Louis replied, not taking his eyes off of the screen where his video game was holding most of his attention.  He felt Harry’s eyes on him from across the room but ignored the heat of his gaze as best he could.  

“I have.”

“And what is it you’ve been thinking about?”

“I think that when we get back we should officially move in together.”

Louis dropped his controller and it clattered on the table in front of him as he fumbled to grab it.

Harry thought for sure that his heart stopped beating.  The room was silent, except for the chiming of the quickly forgotten game, but Harry could hear the blood rushing to his head, the angry pulse in his ears.  

Louis chuckled uncomfortably.  “Quite a bomb to drop there, in front of everyone,” Louis said, trying to make a joke of it.  

She just shrugged.  “Everyone?  It’s only you and me here.  And Harry.  Surely you don’t mind him hearing.”

“No, I just--”

“Why should it be private, anyway?  Surely it makes sense?  I’m done with school, your house is empty half of the year.  Why not move in together?”

“This is a big decision, is it not?”

“Is it?  How big of a decision is it, really?  Unless you have some sort of issue that you aren’t telling me about?”

“No.”

“Right, then, what’s the big deal?”

“Still, it seems as though this would be best left behind closed doors,” Louis insisted.  He couldn’t see Harry, but he could still feel him.  

Eleanor smiled at him.  “Fine,” she conceded.  That’s okay, if you’d rather,” she said.  “But don’t you think we should?”

“El,” Louis said quietly.  “Please.”

She looked at him evenly as she set her magazine on the table between them.  “I just want you to think about it,” she insisted.  “I’m going to go have some lunch with the girls.”  She stood up then, and walked to him, leaning down and kissing him deeply.

Harry watched, as much as he didn’t want to.  He watched the way her hand was on Lou’s face, the way that Louis reached up and put his hand on her hip.  Naturally.  As if it was normal.  As if....  

He had to remind himself that it was normal.  

She released Louis and waved a small wave at Harry.  “See ya, Harry.”

Harry waited until she was gone and then threw the book he was reading across the room so that it slammed against the wall and then flopped loudly onto the concrete floor.  He looked at it, the pages open to words he’d never read, left to be ignored.  He felt like that book, like he had been thrown against a wall, not worth knowing, exposed, alone.  

Louis, his back still turned to Harry, clamped his teeth together and took a deep breath.  Harry’s stillness unnerved him and he wasn’t sure what he could say or do.  Things were spinning out of control, again.  

Eleanor knew.  He knew she knew.  He thought he was being careful but he had just been lulled into a false sense of security and things had been so lovely with Harry for the last several months that he just...slipped.  But Eleanor, she had never said another word.  Had never suspected, had never threatened, so this development was shocking to him.  Just as shocking as it probably was to Harry.

Harry couldn’t move.  He couldn’t talk.  He could only hear the blood rushing to his head, his adrenaline coursing through his veins.  

Louis knew he had to make a move before Harry left, and so he strode to the door, locking it, and back toward Harry who was already halfway across the room.  They collided in a cloud of anger and passion, needing each other, wanting each other, and so they took all they could from each other, the clatter of belt buckles and heavy breathing the only sounds in the room.

And then as quickly as it had begun, their time was up.  There was a furious knock on the door and they scrambled to put themselves back together, Harry’s lips pink and swollen, Louis’ hair more than a little disheveled.

“I want to see you tonight.”   

“Okay,” Harry agreed.   “Hotel?  Midnight?”  He waited for Louis to nod and then, without glancing back, Harry took three long strides to the door and flung it open, not even pausing to see who was trying to get in.  He only heard an irritated “watch it!” as he jogged off down the hallway.

There was something he needed to do.  

Harry spent a lot of time telling himself that he’s used to it all, but the truth was that he had just gotten used to, and even gotten good at, lying to himself.

That’s why he was desperate to find Eleanor.  And find her, he did, sitting in the stands with some of the other girls, picking at a salad and squinting into the sun.  

“Eleanor, can we talk?”  He didn’t stop to say hello to her friends, his friends, their friends?  Were any of them even friends?  He couldn’t tell anymore.

She didn’t ask why or look confused.  She only said “Sure,” and set her salad in the empty space on the bench where she had  just been sitting, and started walking down the steps.  She didn’t hesitate or wonder.

Because she knew.

“You know,” Harry said as soon as they were out of earshot of the others, with no preamble, or niceties, because what was the point?  The words echoed in his head and he felt sickening excitement of confronting the truth.

“Yes,” she said.  

Yes, he thought.  Yes? It was exactly what he thought, but it still surprised him to hear it.  

“How long have you known?”

“Long enough.”

“How long,” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Remember that holiday party you had at your house?”

Harry shook his head, racking his brain.  He and Louis hadn’t even seen each other this past Christmas.  And the one before that….

“Yes,” the word escaped in a breathless whisper.  He had forgotten.  The one where he and Louis had hosted a fabulous party; he remembered their giggles as they had made out while their guests had partied below them.  And then Louis had disappeared.  “Why?”

“Why what?”

Why had she pretended all this time, why hadn’t Louis said anything, why did she begrudge him this, why why why, but there were too many whys and so he lets the word hang between them.

“To be honest, I thought that it had fizzled out, but I realize now that isn’t the case.”

“Fizzled?”  The word made Harry especially angry, as if what he and Louis had was so inconsequential that it could just fizzle like a can of soda that had been left out too long.

“Well, yes.  Though it hasn’t, obviously.”  She squinted at him against the sunlight and he wondered if she could see the evidence, his skin still raw where it had met with Louis’ unshaven face.  

“Obviously?” He asked numbly.  

“You’ve got his shirt on Harry.  The one he was just wearing, for god’s sake.”

“Fuck.”

She shrugged.  “I’m not an fool.  I don’t need you showing up in his clothes to know that something is going on.  It’s obvious in the way you look at him, Harry.  The way he disappears all night and then comes home smelling like you.  You two think that you are being so sneaky, but you aren’t sneaky at all.”

“Does he know that you know?”

“We’ve only talked about it.  Once,” she answered.  She saw no point in lying.  “We fought about it that night, but I haven’t had cause to mention it since.”

“That night?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Harry said after a pause.  “He didn’t.”

“Well, if it is any.consolation...he couldn’t deny it.”

“He admitted it?”

“Well, no, of course he didn’t.  Not outwardly.  But I could see it in his face.  And I could see it, can still see it, in the way you two are with each other.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because I love him and he loves me.”

Her words felt like a punch to his chest.

“Harry, I haven’t done anything wrong.  Don’t look at me that way.”

“But….” But what?  He didn’t even know.

“I understand, you know?  I understand what it feels like when he doesn’t come home to you.  I understand what it feels like when you wait up for him and he doesn’t show.  Or when he makes a promise that he doesn’t keep.  I know what it feels like to love him.  And I know what it feels like to be loved by him.”

“No.”

“No what?  We’re more alike than you want to think, Harry.  And I know you want to paint me as the villain here.  And I’d love to paint you the same way.  And I know we’d both like to blame it on Louis. But he isn’t the villain either.  In the end, none of us are.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry that things have to be this way, Harry.  And I really think that in a different situation the three of us could have been wonderful friends, but I don’t think that will happen now.”

“You don’t say,” Harry said, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.  He was dumbfounded by what he was hearing.  

“I wish I knew the right answers,” she told him.  “But I don’t.”

“I’ll tell you what the right answer is: you let him go.”  Harry was going for broke.  It didn’t matter anymore.   If he didn’t take this chance, he never would.

“Oh, Harry,” she said, putting her hand on his arm.  “Then what?  Do you think that he would come running to you?  That you two would walk down the street arm in arm and go for romantic dinners and date nights at the theater?  Do you really think that would happen?”

On some level, that is exactly what Harry thought.  

“He can’t, Harry.”

“No, I know, but maybe….”

“I’m not a complete idiot.  I figured it out a long time ago, I’ve asked the right questions of the right people.  Even if he wanted to do those things--and I’m not convinced he wants that sort of relationship--but even if he did, he can’t.  And neither can you.”

The truth, though he was well-versed in it, felt like a ton of bricks.

“I love him.  With my whole heart.  Make no mistake about that.  And I have been willing to support him and sit by and let the two of you have your moments.”

“You’ve let us?”  

“Okay, call it what you will.  I’ve not fought it.  I’m not saying it doesn’t kill me, but the fact is that I’ve tolerated a lot more than most girlfriends would.  But something has changed, Harry, and I don’t know what that is.  But it’s not good.”

“What do you mean, something has changed?”

“This isn’t working anymore.  He’s getting reckless, and more confused.  And you aren’t helping that.  You are the one who needs to let him go.”

“I can’t.”

“Harry, be realistic.  If it isn’t me, it will be someone else.  I know you came here expecting some sort of confrontation, but that isn’t going to happen.  This is what I’m asking you: Let Louis go.  For him, and for yourself.  Stop torturing yourself, stop wondering what he is doing when he isn’t with you, stop wondering when he’ll come around.  Accept that that might never happen.  Let him go, and let him be with me.  I love him Harry.  I love him with all my heart, and I have spent years loving him and I will treat him well.  And we can be happy together, Louis and I.  You just need to let us.”


	4. Chapter 4

Harry heard the faint knock from the adjoining room, and opened the door.  Louis stepped through, noticing the smell of Harry’s favorite candle, the one that Harry always had in his hotel rooms, or on the bus.  The one that reminded Harry of home.  

The one that reminded Louis of him.

 It had only been an hour since they had last seen each other, but as always, it felt like a lifetime.  

Harry had spent an agonizing hour alone in this room, ansty, practically bouncing off the walls, wound up from the show and in nervous anticipation of what was to come.  

His conversation with Eleanor seemed like it belonged in a different universe, thought it had only happened a few hours ago, and her words were echoing in his head.  

He hated that she knew.  

He hated that Louis hadn’t told him that she knew.

Most of all, though, he hated that she was right.  

If he could just let Louis go...but how was he supposed to do that?  How was he supposed to get over him when he had to see him every day, stand beside him and sing the words they had written together, travel the world with him?  It was too impossible to imagine.  

He weighed his options while he waited for Louis.  He thought about what he might say and what he might do, where it would leave them.  Where it would leave him.  All of his plans fell apart when Louis walked through the door though.  

“How long do you have,” was the first thing Harry said to him.

“She left,” was Louis’ answer.

It was all they needed to say.  

 

When he's finally come down from the high that performing gives him, when his ears stopped ringing and the faces of that nights front row fans had faded from his memories, when he was alone for a few hours, or perhaps, like now, curled up with the person he loved the most, that was when he was most honest with himself.

That is when he wondered if all of this was worth it.  

Some days he decided that it was.  Some days he would look at his friends, those boys that had become men alongside each other, those band mates that had become brothers, and he was happy and glad and thankful.  

Some days though, all he could see was Louis and all he could feel was the and aching loneliness that Louis’ blue eyes invoked when they were forced together but not allowed to be together, and he would think-would know -that he would willingly give it all up if he could be free to love and be loved by Louis.

And it was that thought that spurred his honesty in that moment, the thing that made him say the words, start the conversation he’d been dreading.  

He was curled against Louis, felt the heat of him against his back, relishing the weight of Louis’ arm that was resting on him, and he wondered if this would be a moment he would cherish forever or would regret for the rest of his life.

“Why didn’t you tell me that she knows?” Harry whispered this to the empty space in front of him. It was dark, quiet.  The ringing in his ears had finally stopped, and his heart had slowed.  He knew he had to do it, but as he asked the question he hoped that Louis was sleeping and that he hadn’t heard.

There was no response and he listened to Louis’ breathing, felt the gentle puffs of air against his ear, but there was no relief that perhaps Louis hadn’t heard him.  He knew that Louis was awake and had heard his words.  He knew that Louis didn’t know what to say.  Louis’ arm tightened around him, pulling him closer, and he pressed his lips to the tender skin of Harry’s neck.  

Louis didn’t know what to say, but he knew that he couldn’t avoid it forever.  He knew that he couldn’t avoid it at all by the way Harry arched away from him instead of into him, and the way he moved his head to break the contact of Louis’ lips against his skin as he said, “Don’t, Louis.”

Harry moved to push Louis away entirely, but Louis tightened his grip even more, pulling Harry to him so that every inch of their bodies were touching, and he flattened his hand against Harry’s chest.  

He had no choice but to go forward, and at this point, knew it would do no good to be anything less than honest.

“When it first happened, I didn’t tell you because I was afraid.”

“Afraid?  Of what?”

“I don’t really know.  I was afraid that things would change, and I didn’t know how they would change, or how I even wanted them to change.  Or even if I wanted them to change….  How did you find out?”

“I just knew.”

“You just knew?  Or was it a lucky guess, and now you’re trying to trick me?”  

“No.  I knew.  And then I asked her.”

“When?”

“This afternoon.”

“Why Harry?  You shouldn’t have done that!”  Louis was alarmed now, the afternoon’s events flashing through his mind.  “My shirt, Harry.  She would have noticed.”

“She did notice,” Harry answered, pulling away and sitting up.

“Fuck, Harry.  What the fuck?”  

“Don’t make this about me,” he answered flatly.  “It doesn’t really matter.  She’s known for years.  And whatever it is that kept her from worrying about it, something changed.  She noticed.”

“Still, it’s not your place to confront her,” Louis insisted.  

“Well, no one else was going to.  And I’m sick of this.  You know she loves you, right?  I think she actually, legitimately loves you.  And she thinks you love her too.  Are you really such a fantastic actor that you can make her actually believe that you love her?”  

“I’m not acting.”

“You don’t actually….”  Harry was horrified as he looked at Louis.  

“What did you think Harry?  That I was just completely faking the whole thing?  That it was all pretend?  Maybe at first it was, but….  For all this time, you really thought it was just as innocent as it was in the beginning?  You know me better than to think I could keep up that kind of lie for this long.”  

“I’m not sure I know you at all.”

“Harry, don’t say that.  You know all of me.”

“Obviously I don’t.”

“You know the important parts,” Louis said to him, reaching out to him.  

“The important parts?  Like the part of you that is in love with someone who is not me?”

“Like the part of me that is in love with you.  The part of me that cannot stop thinking about you for even a minute.  The part of me that is always looking for you, wanting you, needing you.”

“Is that what you say to her, too?”

“It’s different with her.”

“How?”

“Don’t do this to yourself Harry, or to me.”

“How?  How is it different with her?  How am I supposed to believe you when you say that you love her, but you really love me?  That I am the one you can’t stop thinking about?”

“Harry.”

“No.  Don’t touch me, and don’t lie to me any more.  Do I actually mean anything to you?  Or am I just some fun distraction when your girlfriend isn’t around?  Because that’s how it feels.  Do you know how it feels to see you holding her hand?  Do you know how it makes me feel when she kisses you?  Or when I have to be subjected to asinine conversations about the two of you living together?”

“Of course,” Louis said, but he didn’t, not really.

“You don’t understand the half of it.  This could have been different, Louis.  It all could have been different.  You’ve been lying to me for years, letting me think, even though I should have known better, letting me think that she was just a cover.”

“No, that isn’t it.”

“Isn’t it though?  You’ve had the most convenient excuses.  We couldn’t do it, we weren’t allowed, you weren’t ready, but it’s because you love her, and you want to be with her, isn’t it?”

“It isn’t that simple,” Louis pleaded.  “You’re not understanding.”

“Then make me understand.  Make me understand why I’m not good enough.”

“I do love Eleanor,” Louis began.  He watched carefully as Harry bowed his head to his knees and closed his eyes.  “But it has nothing to do with you not being good enough, Harry.  You know that.  Please don’t be unfair in that regard.  You can be angry at me all you want, but you have to understand that this doesn’t have anything to do with you.  Why would I risk all of this, everything, to spend this time with you?  But this isn’t easy, and it isn’t allowed.  And maybe we made a mistake at the beginning, agreeing to the things we agreed to, but now what are we supposed to do?  Risk it all, the careers of our friends, and the security of their families, and our own?”

“How long are you going to hide behind that excuse?” Harry spit out sarcastically, fixing his eyes on Louis’ face.

“It’s not a fucking excuse,” Louis retorted.  “But fine.  You want me to say it?  Again?  I am not ready to be out, and open.  I don’t know if I will ever be ready.  I am sorry, but that’s the way it is.”

“I know that, Lou, and I’m not even pushing that, but Eleanor?  Me?  You can’t have us both.  Not anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that she knows about us, and I know she knows about us, and it just isn’t the same anymore. And she loves you, Louis.  I don’t want to be the reason for her broken heart.  She’s already the reason for mine.  I know how it feels, and I don’t want to do that to her.”

“Since when do you care so much about Eleanor?  You never seemed to care about her feelings before.  You’ve never made her feel welcome, you’ve never been friendly towards her.  You’ve never cared about me sneaking away from her to see you, or about how your little jokes and gestures send mountains of horrible comments her way.  You’ve never seemed to care about her at all.”

“I know.  I didn’t--it didn’t seem real.”

“And now, all of a sudden, it does?”

“I guess, so, yes.”

Exasperated, Louis picked up a pillow and threw it against the wall, but it didn’t have the impact he wanted.  It made him want to laugh.  It was not a laughable moment, but it was so absurd to him, so ridiculous that he would be having this conversation with Harry now, at this moment.  Absurd that all of the hiding and sneaking around he had done for Harry would actually be their undoing.  

“Nothing has changed,” Louis told him.

“Everything has changed, Louis.”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic.”

“Is it?  Because I don’t think it’s dramatic at all.  It is the truth.  I have changed.  You have changed.  This entire situation has changed.  This entire trip, up until about a week ago, had been golden, Louis.  Almost perfect.  We were okay, the two of us, and we were even happy--though maybe I’m foolish for thinking that.  But you let me believe something Louis, you let me believe that things were better, that things were going to be different, that we were moving forward...together.  Me and you.”

Louis looked at Harry, who was staring out of the window into the first bits of early morning light and knew that he could not deny what Harry was saying.  It was all true, so he said nothing and watched as Harry ran his long fingers through his hair.  

  
****

_At first, Harry thought that this was just a blip on the radar.  That Louis would take Eleanor on a few dates, they’d hang out for a while and then it would fade away.  And things did progress slowly for them.  There wasn’t much time to nurture a budding romance and so it was easy for Harry to ignore it at first, and then it seemed so insignificant that Harry was sure it wouldn’t last much longer._

_But that didn’t happen._

_Quite the opposite in fact._

_Harry had been casually ignoring Louis’ relationship with Eleanor.  When Louis did bring El around, it was as if she were just another friend, and Harry did his best to like her.  Every interaction he saw gave him hope that this was just pretend; a fake relationship to satisfy the higher ups, and every comment he made to Louis in their most private of moments solidified his conclusions though they never spoke of it outright.  He was certain that Louis was his, would always be his, and that he had nothing to worry about._

_He was mistaken._

_On Harry’s eighteenth birthday, everything changed._

_The morning of Harry’s eighteenth birthday, Louis woke him with a kiss on the nose, and then a longer one on the lips._

_“Happy Birthday,” he said into Harry’s neck, tugging on his curly locks._

_Harry smiled and was sure that this would be a good day.  He was another year older, a million dollars richer, and had had the chance to travel to places he had never dreamed of going.  His family was healthy, his friends were happy, and he was in love.  What more could he ask for, having the whole world at his feet._

_But then he remembered.  He remembered how Louis had gone out on an obligatory date with Eleanor last night.  He remembered scrolling through twitter mentions obsessively, trying to catch a glimpse of their date night.  He hadn’t meant to, but he couldn’t help himself._

_And he remembered how he stayed awake until six in the morning waiting for Louis to come home._

_He hadn’t._

_Harry sat up quickly and backed away from Louis, who was shirtless and lying in bed next to him as if he’d been there all night.  As if he hadn’t been out with someone else and had sneaked in while Harry was passed out from exhaustion, having stayed up all night waiting for him._

_Judging by the look on Louis’ face, he knew he had been found out._

_“Where have you been?”_

_“Do I have to say it?”_

_The fact that Louis didn’t try to deny it felt like a punch to the gut.  Even though Harry had stayed up waiting, even though he knew that Louis had spent the night somewhere else, he thought that maybe, by some miracle there would be some reason._

_Harry just looked at him, mouth agape, not knowing what to say, not knowing what should come next.  He just shook his head slowly, trying to sort out what, if anything, this meant.  Surely it meant something, and probably nothing good.  There were a million questions running through his head, and finally, the one he wanted to ask least of all somehow came sputtering out of his mouth._

_“Did you...are you…did you have sex with her?”  Saying it out loud made him want to throw up, but he had to ask._

_“Seriously?”_

_“Is that a yes?”_

_“It’s not really your business,” Louis said defensively._

_“Oh.  No?  It’s not my business that you’re sleeping with someone else and then coming home and crawling into my bed.”_

_“That’s not really what I meant…,” Louis said, trying to backtrack._

_“Did you fuck her?”  Harry demanded, his words more vulgar than was typical.  He enjoyed the way it made Louis flinch._

_“Jesus.  No.  Okay?  No.  We went to her house and put on a movie, and we just fell asleep on the couch.”_

_Harry believed him, but he was angry for even putting him in the position to ask that question in the first place.  “Happy birthday to me, I guess.”  He slumped back against the wall._

_“Harry,” Louis said, reaching out to touch him.  Harry let the familiar weight of Louis hand settle on his leg, craving-always craving-his touch.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t know how to do this.”_

_“Do what?”_

_“Be in two places at once.”_

_“Then why do it at all?”_

_“Because we have to.  I have to.”_

_“No you don’t.”_

_“I do, Harry.  This girlfriend thing isn’t going away.  And if I break up with her, it becomes a whole other thing that has to be officially addressed and dealt with.”_

_“So?  What’s one more thing?”_

_“It’s pointless, Harry.  I’ll end up having to have a girlfriend no matter what.  Eleanor is nice.  I like her.  We get along well.”_

_“And what does she think of it all?”_

_“Think of what?”_

_“I don’t know.  What does she think of me?”_

_“She doesn’t know you very well.”_

_“That’s not what I mean.  I mean, does she know...about us?”_

_“No.  Of course not.”  Something registered on Louis’ face, but Harry didn’t know how interpret the look and it made him not want to press the issue._

_All he said was, “Oh.”_

_“Does that surprise you?  Do you think I would have told her?  She thinks that you and I are friends--best friends,” he added, as if that would soften any of the blows this morning would bring._

_“Are you?”_

_“Am I what?”_

_“In a real relationship, you and Eleanor.”_

_“No,” Louis answered after a brief pause.   “But she doesn’t know that, Harry.  And I think it’s best that we keep it that way.”_

_“Keep it that way, huh?  So you’re just going to go on being her boyfriend, is that it?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“You do realize,” Harry started, then changed his mind.  “Louis promise me you know what you’re doing, okay?  Promise me that this is under control and that I have nothing to actually worry about?  Please?”_

_Harry watched Louis’ hand, still resting on Harry’s thigh, as he balled it into a fist.  He tapped his thumb against Harry’s bare skin, and then pulled his hand away completely._

_Harry looked up at him then, but Louis wouldn’t meet his eye._

****

 “I’m tired of all of the lying,” Harry said into the darkness of the room.  “I know that I’ve hurt you, too, Louis, but you have been unfair in that regard.  I have given up a lot for you, and I keep doing it, over and over again.  How many times can we do this?  Does it not affect you?  Does it not kill you?  Does it not break your heart every second of every day?”

Harry wanted, badly, to yell and to scream and to blame but he knew it would do no good.  He didn’t want to push Louis away, though he was sure that it would be the end result no matter how he approached it.  He knew that Louis had his reasons, and he could never blame him for that, for wanting to live his life the way he chose without the prying eyes of millions of people judging his every move.  He knew that Louis wanted this career and to be in this band, and that he wanted to love who he wanted to love without all of the baggage that would come along with that.  But that last part was impossible.  He could not love Harry any longer, and have Harry love him back, without sacrificing something.  

Harry wanted to be able to give Louis anything and everything that he wanted.  When Louis looked at him and caught his eye and Harry saw the way his lips lifted up, ever so slightly in that smirky grin meant only for him, Harry wanted nothing more than to give Louis every single thing in the world that would make him happy.  That’s part of the reason he had done everything he had done, why he had put up with it, why he had hidden himself, kept to himself, led his secret life, given up friends and lovers.  

He had given up so much.

He didn’t regret it.  Not in the least, because he could never regret those things that brought him closer to Louis.

It’s just that he had started to realize that it was changing who he was, what he was, that he was sacrificing too much for someone who he just couldn’t quite have, and he was even ready to keep taking the hits, take whatever he could get.  But the fact that she knew, that she had always known, changed it for him.  It made him feel like an outsider, like less of a person, like someone who wasn’t in on some cruel joke.  

Rational or not, it made him feel like a fool.

“Do you honestly think that I am not affected, seeing you this way?  I wish I could be like you Harry.  I wish I could be exactly who I wanted to be all of the time and not worry or care what might happen because of it.  I wish that I could make you happy all of the time, and I wish that it wasn’t me who was ruining your life.  I’ve been horribly selfish, Harry.  I understand that.  I’m sorry, and I’m certain that I will regret the things I’ve done to you, the things I’ve asked you to do, for the rest of my life.  No matter how things end up, I will never quite forgive myself for those things, and I don’t expect you to, either.”

“I’ve already forgiven you, Louis,” Harry whispered.  He didn’t trust himself to say anything more, but he turned to face Louis, and scooted closer to him and he took his face in his hands, and he kissed him.  

“I’ll always forgive you,” he said again, his voice breaking.  “But I can’t do this anymore.”

Louis watched as the tears fell from Harry’s eyes, trailing along his cheeks and dropping onto the white sheet of another hotel bed they’d never see again.

“Harry, my love, my darling, please,” Louis said, asking, again, for something to which he had no right.  He wiped the tears from Harry’s smooth cheeks with his thumbs, but it did no good.  “I can’t stand to see you this way.”  He pulled him close, and Harry buried his face in the crook of Louis’ neck, a place so familiar it felt like home.  They stayed that way for a while, long enough for the the tears to be exhausted, for the sunlight to start streaming through the window and heat them where they lay.  Harry breathed in the scent of Louis and he wondered how many more times he might have this chance.  He reckoned not many.  Not after what he had to say next.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he repeated, the tears gone, his voice steady again.  “I will be sorry for this until the day that I die, I am sure, but I cannot do this anymore.  I love you, have always loved you, will probably die loving you, and because of that, I am eternally sorry for what I am about to do.”

Louis looked at him, his eyes wide now, his pulse speeding up rapidly, waiting for the words he had been fearing for years, knowing what was about to come, not being able to stop it.  He blinked slowly, and looked at Harry.  “It’s okay,” he said to Harry, giving him permission, understanding it was time.

“I don’t want to be the other, Louis.  I can’t be the other, the second, the one who is left out.  I can stay closeted for you, I can pretend to the world that we are not together, I can sell the official story.  I will even go on fake fucking dates.  But I cannot be something less than, or second best.  I cannot be waiting in the wings at your convenience.  I cannot watch as you live your life with someone else while I put everything I am and everything that I want on hold for you.”

“It’s an ultimatum, then, is it?”  Louis knew it was coming, but it still felt like Harry was driving a knife into his heart.

“I’m sorry.”

“And you want me to decide, right now?”

Harry knew what that meant, knew that the chance of Louis giving up on Eleanor was a foolish dream.  He wanted an answer now.  He wanted Louis to promise to love him forever, and to give up everything else, but the idea that it wasn’t going to be that way weakened his resolve; he was afraid to give up what little time they had left, and so, he didn’t make Louis choose, didn’t demand an answer that that very moment, even though he knew that the best thing would be to walk away.

“No,” he said, wondering if Louis could hear the resignation in his voice.

“When?”

Did it matter, Harry wondered.  He already had his answer.  

He rolled over and curled up into himself, and shut his eyes against the sunlight.  

“Harry,” Louis whispered, scooting closer, and pressing his hand against Harry’s bare back.  He knew he had made a mistake asking for more time.  He knew that it was a telling answer, and something he’d never be able to take back.  “I’m sorry.  Please.  I just need some time to think.”

“I know.  Let’s just stop with all of the apologizing, okay?  Take your time.  But, the tour is over in a week.  I can’t go back to London without knowing.”

Louis nodded, even though he knew Harry couldn’t see him, and laid down beside him, curling around him, wishing he could protect him, and hating that what Harry most needed protection from was Louis himself.


	5. Chapter 5

“That was fantastic,” Niall shouted as they ran off stage and to the waiting cars.  “Where are we going now?  We’ve got to celebrate!”

Harry looked at him, glad for his friend, and still feeling the rush from what they had just finished, and the last performance of the tour.  He didn’t feel like celebrating though.  He was dreading Louis’ decision, and simultaneously hating himself for prolonging it, even for a week.  He hadn’t felt like himself since their conversation that night, since he had so foolishly handed out his ultimatum.  It had felt like the right thing to do, but now, as the end approached, it all seemed so hopeless.  He wished he had never said anything and that he had never decided to force Louis’ hand.  

“We’re going to this club that Zayn found,” Louis announced from behind Harry, all of them jogging quickly to be able to make it out of the place before it emptied out.  If they didn’t manage to beat the crowd, they’d never get anywhere.  

NIall, ever cheerful, hooted his approval, while Harry groaned inwardly.  Any club that Zayn picked was not his type of place; but even though all he wanted was to go home, he didn’t want to disappoint his friends.  And as miserable as he felt, he didn’t want to miss out on the celebration.  

He wasn’t sure how many more of these times he would have.

“You alright?” Zayn asked Harry ashe climbed into the van and took the seat next to him.  “You don’t seem like yourself.”  Zayn’s voice was quiet as he leaned close to Harry, keeping his words between the two of them.  

Harry shrugged.  He glanced at the row of seats in front of them and saw Louis looking at him, and raised his eyebrows.  Louis returned the glance, but said nothing.  

“What’s that about?” Zayn asked, obviously having noticed the exchange.  “Are you two okay?  These last few weeks have been strange.”

“Everything is….”  Harry couldn’t finish the sentence.  He didn’t know what everything was.  This last week had been strange.  He couldn’t figure out if they were saying goodbye to each other or not.  Neither he nor Louis had mentioned the conversation and he sometimes wondered if he had imagined it all.  But he knew he hadn’t.    

“Do you not want to go out?”  Zayn pressed him.  “We can do something else if you’d like.”

“No!  No.  That’s not it at all.”

“Bro, you can talk to me, you know?”

“I know.  Maybe I will someday,” Harry said.

“I don’t want to have to worry about you,” Zayn said, and Harry watched as Louis turned around again.

“Everything alright, boys?” he asked.  

“What’s it to you,” Zayn joked in reply.  “Harry and I are just having a little chat.  Nothing to do with you.”

Harry met Louis’ eyes then looked away.  

“Glad to be going home?”  Zayn said, nudging Harry’s knee.  

Harry just shrugged.  

“Well,” Zayn said, grasping Harry’s thigh.  “At least let’s have some fun tonight, yeah?”  

 

Harry pushed his way through the crowded club, glad that people there didn’t seem to know who any of them were.  He was making his way to the table where his friends were, but each step felt heavy; he had a good idea of where he was headed and he didn’t want to go there at all.  There was only a little more time, a few hours he was measuring in minutes, before he would know for certain.  

All he really wanted was to be alone.  He didn’t want to be cheerful for his friends.  He didn’t want to celebrate the ending of this tour, he wasn’t happy about going home.  

He didn’t even know where home was.  

Well.

To him, Louis was home.

He didn’t know where that fact would leave him.  

Harry really just wanted to be holed up in a hotel room, drinking too much before he got on a plane that would take him away from everything that he had thought was his.

He shoved his way through the people, and then stopped short as he felt a hand on his waist.  The path he had made for himself closed around him and they were absorbed by the mass of the people around them, the dark giving them the anonymity that they were so infrequently afforded.  Harry sank back into the warmth of Louis’ body as the crowd pressed them together, relaxing at once, his racing thoughts slowing as his heart sped up.  

Louis slipped his hand forward, so that it slid under the hem of Harry’s t-shirt, his fingers gliding on Harry’s smooth stomach.  He could feel the taut muscles there, the way they flexed ever so slightly as fingertips met skin.

Harry closed his eyes against the flashing of the lights and tried to etch into his mind the way this felt: the way way Louis’ fingers rested feather-light on his bare skin, the pressure of Lou’s body against his back, the heat of his breath on his bare neck; the way that it felt to be like this, here, in a room full of strangers, touching in public without worrying who might see, as if this was normal for them, as if they were themselves normal at all.  

He felt Louis press his forehead to his back, and they stayed like that for ages.  Song after song, beat after beat, no talking, barely moving, just touching, their breathing coming faster, their hearts racing.

How would he ever go without this again?  Harry didn’t know.  But he was lost now, to the way Louis was leaning in to him, the way Louis’ fingers dropped ever so slightly to hook into his waistband.  It took his breath away, and his heart was so full and so sad that he thought it would explode.  

“Let’s go,” Lou murmured against his ear, pushing his hips into Harry and nudging him forward.  

Before Harry knew it he was out the door, in a car, leg bouncing nervously as Louis sat beside him, silent.  He only stilled when Louis reached over and clasped his knee.  “Please try to relax,” Louis said, even if he didn’t feel so relaxed himself.  

They continued on in silence as they drove through the city streets, and into the parking garage.  They were quiet as they rode the elevator and as they walked down the hall to their room.  

Their room.  

“Shall we talk now?” Louis asked, as they walked through the door.  The room was icy cold, and he shivered in his sweaty shirt.  “A cup of tea, maybe?”

“Do you really want to waste time on boiling some water, Lou?”  Harry asked, his voice barely a whisper.  “Or talking for that matter?”

“Shouldn’t we talk?”

“Do we need to?”  Harry moved toward him, brushing Louis’ hair out of his eyes, and took his face in his hands, pressing his lips to Louis’ lips and leaving them there, soft at first and then harder, silently begging Louis to yield to him, to give them this last chance even though he knew it would all be over soon.  

And yield Louis did, giving Harry what he wanted, taking from Harry all that he was willing to give.  Louis paid particular attention to the way Harry smelled, the way he tasted, the way his skin felt, and the way his muscles moved under his skin wherever Louis touched him.  They locked eyes as Louis pulled Harry’s shirt off, and as Harry did the same.  Louis put his hand over Harry’s heart, and tried to speak but nothing came out of his mouth so Harry pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him.

It was complicated this dance they were doing.  Neither of them wanted to let go, but both were so willing to make the other happy that they would give up the best of themselves.

Harry was trying to take it slow, trying to take in every moment that he meant to be their last, struggling to be patient, but feeling the press of time.  As he pulled Louis close and deftly unbuckled his belt, Louis stopped, grabbed Harry’s hands to stop him, though he wanted this moment more than anything.

“We should talk,” Louis said, not wanting there to be another misunderstanding between the two of them, though it hardly seemed to matter now...there had already been too many.

“We don’t need to,” Harry said.

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispered for what felt like the millionth time, feeling the swell of emotions in this throat.

“I know.”

  
****

_“Lou,” Harry said in greeting as he sidled up to the bar forcing himself between Niall and Liam where they stood.  He was trying to play it cool, though his heart was racing.  He took the proffered beer from a passing server and downed half of in one gulp._

_“Careful, Styles,” Liam said to him.  “We are at a work event after all.”_

_“Okay, dad,” Niall said from Harry’s other side.  He smiled and swallowed the second half of his beer._

_“Seriously, Harry,” Liam warned._

_“Okay, dad,” Harry said, patting him on the back.  “I’ll be careful.”  He grabbed another beer, but this time chose to sip it more slowly now that the first one had taken the slight edge off.  He looked around Niall to where Louis was standing.  “Where’s your date, Lou?”  Harry asked him, watching as Louis’ chin jutted out and his eyes narrowed._

_“No date tonight,” he said somewhat stiffly.  “She’s in Paris this week,” he added.  “School thing.”_

_“Ooo la la,” Harry joked, pretending to be more confident than he felt._

_The last time he had seen Louis, they had had an epic fight, and instead of it ending the way it usually did (in bed), it had ended with him storming out of the room.  It had started over something ridiculous at rehearsals, the two of them bickering over an insignificant note change, but had continued long after everyone else had left.  After Harry had stormed out, he sat in the car for an hour, waiting for Louis to come and find him, but Louis hadn’t._

_Now, they were at some sort of industry meet and greet, the five of them-though Zayn seemed to be missing at the moment-were dressed up and edgy._

_“Where’s Zayn?”  Harry asked, craning his head to look around the room._

_“Not sure, but he should really be here,” Liam said._

_“Seriously, Liam, you need to cool it with the dad-act,” Louis said sternly, though there was a hint of mischief in his voice._

_“If I don’t do it, who will?  This is important, and we’ve got Zayn missing, Harry getting drunk, and Niall acting like he’s at some house party instead of work.”_

_“What’s wrong with being friendly?” Niall asked, craning around Harry to grin at Liam, who was looking uncomfortable.  “Okay.  Jeez.  I’ll try to be more professional.”_

_“And while you’re at it, go find Zayn,” Liam told him.  Niall chuckled and sauntered away, leaving an empty space between Harry and Louis._

_Harry sipped his beer, resisting the urge to finish it all at once, and did his best not to look at Louis.  It had only been a few days since they had argued, but it had been the longest few days of Harry’s life.  He had spent too many hours staring at his phone, waiting, wondering if maybe he should send Louis a message or call him, but he had decided to give him his space.  He didn’t know if that had been the right thing to do or not, but he couldn’t change it now._

_Louis angled his face in a way that made it possible for him to watch Harry, without actually looking at him, waiting for him to glance his way, wondering what to make of Harry’s joke about his date.  She had suggested coming back early to attend this event, but Louis had insisted he’d be fine.  He didn’t want her here.  He was having a hard enough time as it was trying to keep up the boyfriend act.  He took every opportunity he had to be away from her._

_He resented the fact that he and Harry had argued, angry that he could have spent these last few days with Harry without Eleanor watching their every move, but he had been hurt by Harry’s words and hadn’t known what to say.  Harry had been right, was always right, and it made Louis angry to be confronted with the truth: the truth that was spending more time with Eleanor; the truth that he was avoiding Harry more; and the truth that this life was threatening to turn him into someone he didn’t want to be._

_Harry spoke nothing but the truth, but Louis couldn’t do anything about it, which Harry knew, but he still couldn’t stop bringing it up.  At least it felt that way.  But Louis tried to cut him some slack.  He knew how hurt Harry was about the whole thing.  It had only been a short while since Louis had moved out of their shared apartment.  He hadn’t told Harry the real reason he had moved; he hadn’t talked to Harry about the fact that their team was pressuring him to get his own place, to be more independent, to separate himself from Harry.  He knew it would incense Harry and he didn’t want to take the chance that Harry’s idealism, his belief that the people around him were good people, might ruin this whole scenario for all of them.  Louis had chosen instead to be vague, not quite lying, but certainly omitting certain truths.  That is why he had kept his distance, hoping they could both cool off before things went any further down this treacherous path._

_Louis set his drink down on the bar, wanting another, but knowing it would drive Liam mad (and he wasn’t in the mood to be parented by Liam anymore tonight), and moved closer to Harry.  Not touching, but close enough that he could smell Harry’s shampoo._

_“Hey.”_

_“Hey,” Harry answered, taking a moment before he turned his head to look into Louis’ blue eyes._

_“Can we have a chat?”  Louis asked._

_“Sure,” Harry said, feeling slightly light-headed, the way he so often did when Louis was close._

_“We’ll be right back, Liam,” Louis said around Harry.  “Don’t want you to worry,” he teased.  Liam pretended to ignore him, but Louis could see the smirk on his lips.  “Come on,” Louis said, leading the way out of the room and down a deserted hall.  Harry followed, wondering what it was Louis might say to him._

_When Louis stopped, certain that no one was around, he turned to face Harry._

_They stood there looking at each other for a few moments, before Louis took a few short steps to Harry and embraced him.  Harry buried his head in Louis’ neck, and took in the scent of him.  He smelled like cinnamon and tea leaves, the way he always had ever since Harry had given him that first bottle of cologne for the first Christmas they had shared together._

_“I’ve missed you,” Louis said, and Harry’s heart melted._

_“I was afraid you hadn’t,” Harry said honestly, pulling away so that he could rest his forehead to Louis’._

_“Don’t be ridiculous, Haz,” he said again, touching his face before they had to pull away when they heard the door open.  “Are we okay?” he said as he took a few steps back._

_“Of course,” Harry said._

_The rest of the evening was absolute torture.  All Harry and Louis wanted was to be able to get out of there and be alone together, the tension building to such a fever pitch that Harry thought he might actually lose his mind.  He relished the way that Louis found every excuse to touch him, resting his hand on his back for just a beat longer than needed, or perhaps letting his hand trail down along his back slowly, just a little lower, always a little bit lower.  Finally, they were allowed to leave, and Harry and Louis practically fell into the car, handsy and giggling in relief._

_“Where to?” the driver asked._

_“My house,” Louis answered quickly.  “Harry’s coming to my house tonight,” he added, more for Harry’s benefit than anyone else's._

_They barely made it through the door of Louis’ new house before they were on top of each other, Louis’ hair tangled in Harry’s hair, lips on lips, jackets shoved off of shoulders and left in a pile by the door._

_“I can’t,” Louis said breathlessly against Harry’s neck, “please, Harry,” he said, needing him so badly, unable to wait any longer.  Harry backed away from Louis, pulling his swollen bottom lip between his teeth, planning what he might do next.  He released his lip and grinned at Louis, looking him up and down, eyes landing on the main source of Louis’ current distress.  He reached out, grabbing Louis by the waste of his pants, and tugged, just a little, watching as Louis took a small step forward, his mouth open, his eyelids heavy, his cheeks pink.  Harry nudged Louis’ shirt up, just a bit, and started to unbuckle his belt slowly as Louis rocked toward him into his hands, the slightest of moans escaping his lips._

_“Lou,” he said._

_“Hmm,” Louis answered, though his mind was on Harry’s hands and the way they so deftly slipped along his sensitive skin._

_“Let’s not do that again,” Harry murmured.  “Fight like that?  I can’t stand being apart from you that way,” Harry added._

_Before Louis answered, Harry had fallen to his knees, looking up at him through his lashes, his eyes serious as he took him into his mouth._

_“Get up,” Louis said.  Harry looked up from what he was doing, confused.  “Get up,” Louis said, more strongly this time.  Harry did as he was told, his brow furrowed, unsure of what he had done to upset Louis, but he soon saw that Louis was not upset at all._

_No._

_Louis moved into Harry until his back was pressed against the wall and Louis was pressed against him.  Harry, laughing now, pecked Lou on the lips and turned his body toward the wall, his head turned and tucked against his shoulder so he could see Louis’ face as he pressed urgently against him, grinding him against the wall._

_“Well, then,” Harry said, pushing back against him and making room between himself and the wall for Louis to reach around and undo his belt._

  
****

“I have a plane to catch,” Harry finally said, standing and trying to sort through the pile of clothes on the floor.  He not-so-accidentally picked up Louis’ shirt and pulled it over his head.  If Lou noticed, he didn’t mention it.  

“What?  What do you mean?  Aren’t you coming with the rest of us?”

“No.  I’m going to LA.”

“Since when?”

“I mean, I don’t know, really.  I wasn’t really sure.  And then, after last week, after I realized how this was going to go, I knew I couldn’t go back to London with you.”

“So, that’s it then?  This is really happening?”

“Yes.”

“Where do we go from here, then?”

Harry didn’t know.  He didn’t see how things could ever be okay again; he didn’t know how he would be able to work with Louis, to see him day in and day out, and pretend like his heart wasn’t shattered into a million pieces.  He didn’t know how he’d spend his nights alone in strange cities, or who might be the first person he called when he wanted to talk.  But it wouldn’t be Louis anymore.  That much was obvious.  

“Do we really have to do this?  I mean, do we really have to pretend that we are going to stop all of this, just to start it all over again?”

“This isn’t like all the other times,” Harry told him.

“Oh, come on, love,” Louis implored, hoping that the moments they had just shared might be enough to change Harry’s mind, that maybe his resolve might have weakened.  

It wasn’t the first time they had done this, of course.  It was always the same.  One of them, usually Harry, would insist that things must end, and for whatever reason they would take a break, cool off.  There were a few times it was nothing but a huge joke, and a few others where Louis really thought that it would break them entirely.  

But it never had.

“Louis, please don’t.  I know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t like the other times,” Harry insisted, shoving random belongings into his bag.  “I understand that you have to do this Louis, and I can’t--won’t-hold it against you.  I get it.  I promise.  I don’t hate you.  But I have never felt so sad in all of my life.  I can’t stand it any more.  It’s over and done, and I don’t know where we go from here.”

Louis bit the inside of his lip to keep himself from begging Harry to endure any more when he knew it wasn’t fair.  

“So.  I’m getting on a plane to LA.  You go back to London, see your family.  See...well... you know,” Harry said sadly.  “I don’t know.  Live your life.  Be happy.  And I’ll see you in a couple of months.”

“A couple of months Harry?”  

“Maybe less.  We’ll see.”

“So that’s it?”  Louis looked at Harry who was already ready to go, bag slung over his shoulder, stupid hat on his head, phone in his back pocket.

“That’s it,” Harry said and walked toward the door.  

“Are you even going to say goodbye?”

Harry’s back was to him now, his hand on the doorknob.  “I just spent the last three hours saying goodbye, Lou.  If you don’t know that, then….” Harry shrugged, afraid to say more, afraid of losing it--whatever it was.  

Even though he had already lost the one thing he cared about most.

 

Harry spent most of the flight staring out of the window of the small private jet, his mind moving too fast to settle on one thought for very long.  Though his team had wanted him to fly publicly, and to put in an appearance at LAX, he had put his foot down and insisted on small airports and private planes.  He hadn’t wanted to see a million people or be captured in strangers’ cameras as he came to grips with what he had just done.  He didn’t want to see his face in tomorrow’s headlines wondering why it was he went to LA when the rest of the band had gone to London.  He didn’t want to read about how he was leaving the band or hear how he hated his band mates.  He didn’t want people to look at those pictures and wonder if he was sad or angry or tired.  He was all three of those things, and he didn’t need images of the apparent pain on his face circulated for all the world to see.  His pain was his own and he wanted to keep it that way.  

He watched the clouds without seeing them, feeling numb, and wondered when he might realize what he had just done.  He wondered if at some point he might fall to his knees in despair or if he would go out and drink himself into a stupor and embarrass himself in front of the world; or if he would sit in a dark room with a guitar in his lap and spit out words to walls that wouldn’t hear him, wouldn’t care.  He did not know how he would react when it happened, but he was certain that the pain of it all would come crashing down on him soon enough.

But for now, he would just stumble through it.  He walked off the plane onto the small runway to a waiting car and tossed his bags in the back carelessly.  He had the driver take him straight home to his house in the hills.  He hauled his two big bags into the house on his own, dropping them heavily in the foyer, listening to the echo in the empty house, and jumped when there was a knock on the door, wondering who was there, who would have known to find him there.  

There was only one person who knew.  

He flung the door open, his heart racing, words ready to pour from his mouth, his arms ready to wrap around Louis’ familiar form.  But as quickly as those emotions rushed into him did they leave again when he saw that it was only the driver, holding Harry’s guitar case that he had forgotten in the back seat.  He took it, his hands shaking, and somehow managed to mutter his thanks before shutting the door again.

And then he was alone.

Wretchedly and heart-achingly alone.  

Though it was only the middle of the day he felt so exhausted that he did nothing other than climb the stairs and shuffle heavily to his room and collapse on the bed there,  curled up into himself, screwing his eyes shut against the world.

He awoke several hours later, disoriented, not remembering where he was.  His head felt heavy and he was confused in that way that happens when you fall asleep at odd hours, having gone to sleep in the day time and waking up as the last light of the evening is fading into dusk. He stretched and remembered where he was, home, or at least the place that most felt like something that could be home, and he rolled over on the down comforter, looking for the clock on the nightstand by the opposite side of the bed.  

His eyes found something else though, and it made his heart catch in his throat.  Louis’ mug, left there, forgotten.  He stretched his arm to pick it up, looking at it in in a confused state, noticing how cold it was, and that it was clean, empty, obviously left there by the cleaning service as if they thought it belonged there.  

Louis’ mug belonging there.

As if.

It made Harry furiously angry; he rotated the mug in his hand, looking at it, fist clenching tightly as if he might manage to crush it with his bare hand, until he lifted his arm and made to throw it against the wall.  A muttered “fuck you,” escaped his mouth, and he dropped his arm, not able to bring himself to destroy it.  Instead, he set it down again, leaving it on the nightstand, Louis’ nightstand, where it didn’t belong anymore, and wondered where Louis was.  

Probably home to London, probably on his way to see Eleanor for dinner; or perhaps she’d go to his place with some take-away and a film, happy to see him, happy that she’d won.

 

Louis wasn’t with Eleanor though.  He had flown back to London, yes, but upon arriving had ignored her messages until he finally couldn’t anymore and then asked that he just have a few days to rest, claiming jet lag and and a horrible cold, just wanting a some time to himself.  She obliged, though he could tell she wasn’t exactly happy about it.  He couldn’t find it in him to care.   

The truth was, he was fairly stunned at what had happened this morning; the truth was that he hadn’t meant to make this decision; the truth was that he hadn’t really thought that Harry would go through with it.  He had thought that Harry needed to get it out of his system.  He hadn’t realized until this morning that Harry really, truly, meant what he said.

It’s not that it would have changed anything, because it probably wouldn’t have, but it still felt shocking all the same.  

And so, he just needed some time to himself.  He didn’t want to have to play nice to Eleanor, didn’t want to have to be a boyfriend to her, when all he wanted was to be with Harry.  

She’d likely have him for the rest of his life (though the thought made his head spin, and not in a pleasant way), so she could give him a few days of his own.

So he went home.  Alone.

It was obvious that Eleanor had been here, to tidy up, to fill the fridge with food and his cabinets with his favorite teas and biscuits.  It made him irrationally angry when he saw the cookies in his cabinet, the ones he didn’t really care for but kept around for Harry.  She didn’t know, it wasn’t her fault, but he grabbed the box and slammed it against the counter top, angry, before stuffing the whole box into the trash can.  

There were so many things Eleanor didn’t know.  So many things she walked by on a regular basis that she had no clue about.  Not just the biscuits or a particular brand of bottled water that she thought were Louis’ favorites, but other things, more important things, things that Louis would never let go of, things she would never know.  

Like the only throw pillow on the sofa that had been a joke between himself and Harry; and the bedroom upstairs that he had kept for the two of them, himself and Harry, apart from the rest of the house, a room which Eleanor had no need to visit.  

Like the smaller things: the dent in the top of the stainless steel trash can where Harry had dropped a bottle of champagne, or the scratch on the floor in the living room from when he and Harry had tried to drag the sofa out on the back patio with little success--realizing too late that it wouldn’t fit through the door.

Or the most personal of things, like the marks on the wall in the hallway from Harry’s belt buckle, left over from a particularly passionate interlude.  Every time he walked by it he practically blushed, remembering the way they had left yet another ridiculous event, barely able to contain themselves; the way Harry’s mouth felt on his, the way he had pushed Harry against the wall, the slight screech of his buckle against the paint, the way he had taken him there, right there; the way the skin of Harry’s shoulder tasted in his mouth; they way that they had laughed about the evidence afterward and Harry’s damp skin and his deep dimples and his ruddy flushed cheeks.  

Louis realized then, as this memory took hold in his mind, that he was a fool.  

He checked the time on his phone, trying to determine what time it might be where Harry was, wondering if it was too late to call or if it was too soon.  

He decided it didn’t matter.  He didn’t think he was strong enough to hear the sound of Harry’s voice on the other end right now, or worse, that he was strong enough to deal with it if Harry didn’t answer at all, and so he put the phone back in his pocket and sank to the floor, staring at the scuff mark on the wall.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Three weeks.

That’s how long it had taken Harry to pick up that coffee mug on the side of a bed that no longer belonged to anyone but him and put it in a box on a shelf in the back of the half empty closet in the bedroom that was no one’s but his.

Every morning he woke up and the first thing he saw, the first thing he looked at, was Louis’ mug sitting there, mocking him.

At first, it made the house, room, bed, seem less lonely, as if Louis was only away for a few days and would be back any minute.

For a while it comforted him.

As the days passed though, it became a solid reminder of what he had done, what he was doing; what Louis hadn’t done, what Louis wasn’t doing.

And as even more days passed, it became a measure of his strength to be able to wake up and see that mug and not feel the world had ended.

So far, that hadn’t happened.

One night, about three weeks since he had arrived in LA (he was trying not to measure it in the days, minutes, hours, since he had left Louis), he had gotten ready for bed, had brushed his teeth and taken off his jeans and had crawled into a cold bed, too big for one person, really, and he had lied awake staring at the clock, the mug taunting him out of the corner of his eye, and he decided he couldn’t take it anymore.  He touched the mug, fingering the simple design on it’s ceramic veneer.  He couldn’t help but see the way Louis held it to his mouth, the way his lips pressed against the rim, and it made him feel sad.  That’s all the mug represented anymore: sadness and heartbreak.  Not strength or hope or a promise.  

So he put it away.  He walked purposefully to the closet.  He wrapped the mug in a silk scarf hanging there on a hook, one of his favorites, and he put it into an empty box he found.  He looked for a moment, at his side of the closet, filled with so many clothes that he’d never get around to wearing, and then at the other side of the closet, mostly empty except for a set of nice hangers that would probably never be used.   He turned back to the full side and nestled the box in amongst some jumpers that would forever be too hot for LA and he felt the burn of threatened tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat.  

But he was determined not to cry.

He needed to get out and needed to clear his head.  He needed to do more than sulk about an empty house; he needed to do more than beat out unhappy rhythms and pen melancholy lyrics on the grand piano that he hadn’t really bought for himself; he needed to do more than lay awake at night staring at clocks that continued to tick out the seconds of his life that he was ignoring.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he put on some shorts and tied his running shoes tightly, and decided to go for a run.

He walked out of the side door, at once noticing the chill and wishing that he had worn something a little warmer, but he didn’t want to go back into the house, afraid that if he did, he wouldn’t leave again.  He jogged to the end of his property, and then through the gate, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief that the streets were empty.  It was late, close to midnight, but he never knew when someone might pop up beside him with a camera or begging for an autograph.  He didn’t mind it so much when he was working, but it always made him anxious to to feel like public property in his time off.  

He ran in the dark through the deserted streets, listening to his feet hit the pavement, fighting the urge to hear it as a beat, afraid to put words to the music he heard in his head.  He ran until his legs ached and his lungs burned.  It hurt, but he didn’t want to stop.  He liked the feel of it, enjoyed the pain; he was glad to feel something other than his aching heart.

“Kind of late for a run, isn’t it?”

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, startled to hear a voice out there in the middle of the night, and a female one at that.  It was dark, the streetlights spaced in such a way that there were several yards between the dim pools of light, and he turned in a full circle before he spotted her.

“Hi,” she said, when his eyes landed on her, and she raised her hand in a small wave.  “I’m Celeste,” she said, not moving from where she stood leaned up against a brick wall, a half finished cigarette hanging between her fingers.

He was panting and sweaty, unable to mutter more than his name.  “Harry,” he said breathlessly.  He leaned over, his hands on his knees, attempting to catch his breath before he raised his head to look at her again.

“Do you always run late at night?”  She asked.

He took a few deep breaths, wanting his breathing to even out before he spoke again.  “Do you always lurk in the shadows to surprise people who run late at night?”

She shrugged.  “Not really.”

“Me either.  Run at night, I mean.”

She took a drag off of her cigarette and then dropped onto the sidewalk, crushing it with her flip flop clad foot.  

“Alright,” she said, “goodnight.”  She pulled her sweater over her hands and walked through the gate, disappearing in the shadows.

Harry watched for a minute, puzzled at the interaction at how abrupt the whole thing seemed.  Why even stop him if she had no intention of talking more?  He didn’t know and he didn’t understand, but that seemed par for the course these days, so he stretched a bit, cast one more glance at the dark house that she had retreated to, and ran back the way he had come.

 ****

_“Where have you been?”  Louis asked him as he walked into the bedroom.  Louis brought the tea cup to his lips while he watched Harry move toward him._

_“Is that a trick question?  Isn’t it obvious?”_

_Of course it was obvious, the way Harry’s damp hair was pushed back with a headband, the way his bare torso was glistening with sweat, the redness of his face._

_“You got home late last night.  I didn’t think you’d be up so early, working out to boot.”_

_“Yes.  Well,” Harry said, sitting on the bed and pulling off his shoes.  Louis watched the way the muscles rippled in his back and studied the curve of his spine under his skin.  He worried Harry was getting a bit too thin.  “I had to clear my head.”_

_“I see,” Louis said.  He sensed a bit of tension in the room._

_“Has it made it into the papers yet?”_

_“I haven’t checked.  I wanted to hear it from you, first,” Louis answered.  “Isn’t that what we agreed to?  That we’d hear it from each other first?”_

_“Yes.”  It had been more for Harry’s benefit than for Louis’ but that didn’t mean Louis wouldn’t stick to their bargain._

_“What’ll it say anyway?  What it always says?  How you were seen out with your next new famous girlfriend?  Haven’t I read this story a million times?”_

_“Probably.  But this was different,” Harry told him, turning his body to face Louis where he sat up against the headboard.  “Have you even been out of bed yet?  It’s ten o’clock.”_

_“Obviously.”  Louis lifted up the mug to indicate that he had in fact gotten out of the bed.  “Left the room, even.”  He was trying to be calm, but he didn’t like the way Harry had said that, the way Harry had said it had been different._

_“I need to shower.”_

_“Why are you so grumpy?”_

_“I’m not,” Harry lied, and walked into the adjoining bathroom._

_Louis was uneasy indeed.  Harry had just been out on a planned “date,” as part of the usual rotation of things.  It wasn’t any different than any of the others, as far as Louis had understood it.  Some girl, someone who needed the publicity in the way that Harry needed the image boost.  Womanizer, indeed._

_Louis listened to the noises coming from the bathroom.  He waited until the heard the shower door and the water running at full blast before he set his mug down and walked to the bathroom.  Harry had left it ajar, and Louis nudged it open._

_“Are you okay, Harry?”_

_“I’m fine.”_

_“You don’t seem fine.”_

_Harry was shrouded in steam where he stood on the other side of the glass doors, but Louis could see the way Harry’s head hung low and his shoulders slumped.  It made Louis nervous.  He was always nervous on this cliff they always seemed to be standing on, not knowing which way the wind would blow, or when.  How long before Harry had had enough?  How long before Harry met someone else, someone who loved him, someone he could be with without all of the hiding, the sneaking about, the lies…._

_“I like her,” Harry said after a few minutes, and Louis’ heart sank, as he his body slumped onto the toilet seat.  “Don’t be so shocked,” Harry said, his nose pressed flat against against the glass, his pink lips turned up in a grin.  “I don’t mean romantically!”_

_Louis felt flushed, and he wondered if it was from the steamy heat in the room or from something else.  Namely, Harry’s naked body pressed against the glass door.  He took it in briefly before Harry retreated back into the steam.  “I just mean that she was nice, and fun, and I’d like to be friends with her, but of course now that is impossible.”_

_“Doesn’t have to be.”_

_“But it will be.  You know what will happen.  If I’m seen with her again, they will take hold of her and make her life miserable.”_

_“Then be friends with her secretly.”_

_Harry reappeared at the glass again.  “Just what I need, another secret relationship.”_

_“Ha.  Ha,” Louis said sarcastically._

_“Speaking of which, are you getting in or are you just going to sit there for the rest of the morning?”  Harry pressed his hips against the glass and grinned a wicked grin._

_“Don’t be cross,” Harry said, pressing his lips against the lines in Louis’ furrowed brow when he finally undressed and stepped into the shower.  The water streamed from several jets above them, making it feel more like a really hot rainstorm than an actual shower._

_“I’m not.”_

_“You are, but I won’t hold it against you.”_

_“I’m not cross.  I just hate the thought of having to share you, that’s all,” Louis didn’t realize what he was saying until the words left his mouth, how unfair it was.  He waited for Harry’s reaction, but it didn’t come._

_“You don’t.  You have me, all of me.  And I’m not doing that again.  I’m not going to go on pretend dates with girls I”ll never see again.  It makes me feel weird, and gross, and it makes me a liar, and that’s not something I ever want to be.”_

_“Isn’t everything we do a lie?” Louis asked._

_“No,” Harry said.  “This isn’t a lie.”  He pressed his lips to Louis’._

_“I suppose not,” Louis said when Harry had moved back._

_“This isn’t a lie,” Harry said before he put his hands on Louis’ hips and pulled him close so Louis could feel Harry against him._

_“No.  It’s not.”_

_Harry smiled and rocked into Louis.  “This,” he said, taking Louis’ hand and pressing it to his chest so that Louis could feel the beating of his heart, and pressing his own palm against Louis’ chest.  “This isn’t a lie.”_

 ****

 Louis was worried.  He tried not to be that way.  He tried to put it out of his mind.  He tried to distract himself with his family, with work, with endless hours spent kicking an endless supply of footballs into an empty goal, kicking angrily until finally he was exhausted.  

Nothing worked.

The first thing he did when he woke up these days was check his phone.  For missed calls or text messages, for news from friends or acquaintances, and finally as he grew more desperate, he’d check the headlines, searching for any inkling of where Harry might be or what he might be doing.  He hadn’t asked anyone.  He had wanted to, but he hadn’t had the nerve to even allude to the fact that he hadn’t spoken to Harry in weeks.  He didn’t want to call attention to it.  He didn’t want to raise anyone’s suspicions or cause them to worry or fret over what might be going on or what it might lead to.  The last time that had happened, it had nearly ended their careers.  

So he kept kicking those balls, kept checking his phone, kept wondering just what it was Harry might be doing.  

He worried because he knew Harry.  He knew the real Harry, the one who wasn’t always smiling and happy and on for the fans.  He knew just how broody Harry could turn, knew that he might lock himself up in a house for days on end.  Or worse, how he might be riding that horribly fast motorcycle at dangerous speeds in the middle of nowhere on twisting and turning hills with no more than a flimsy guardrail to keep one from careening down a steep cliff.  He kept telling himself that he would know, at the very least he would have heard, if something was terribly wrong.

He woke every morning the same way, heart racing, worried about Harry.

When he woke on this particular morning, Eleanor was in bed next to him, snuggled against his warm body.  When she felt him stir, she kissed his neck and ran her fingers through his hair and he felt all of this but it didn’t quite register the way it should.  He begged himself, begged every part of himself to feel something, to feel the way he was supposed to feel but he couldn’t do it.  Not right now, not just because she touched him or smiled at him or pressed her body against him.  Or when she was more direct, he thought as he winced as her hand trailed lower, finding what she thought she was looking for.  

It hadn’t been difficult before.  Not like this.     

But it was different now, and it took a concentrated bit of effort for him.  He pleased her in other ways to keep her distracted, to give himself time to work up to it--if he didn’t find some excuse to get out of it entirely.  

He tried to do this now, tried to roll over and slip beneath the sheet and redirect her attention elsewhere, but she wasn’t falling for it today.  

“Come on, Lou,” she murmured as she pulled on his hair, tugging him upward so that their eyes could meet.  He avoided that and looked at the clock instead.  

“I’ve got to go,” he said, jumping from the bed abruptly.  

“Go?  But we’ve only just woken up.”

It annoyed him when she pouted.  He used to think it was endearing.  “Yes, sorry.  I’ve got a meeting that started 15 minutes ago.  Liam is going to lose it.”

“Liam will get over it.”

“You know how he is.”  He didn’t bother to do more than pull a beanie over his head and put on some trainers.  And then he left.

He took the stairs quickly, needing to be away from this place, from her space.  They had been staying at Eleanor’s small flat; it wasn’t much compared to his huge house further out of the city, and it reminded him of the claustrophobic hotel rooms that he seemed forever trapped in when they were on tour.  Still, this arrangement was more his idea than hers.  She wanted to give up the apartment and move into his house, but he kept making excuses as to why they shouldn’t: because it was closer to the studio; because it closer to her family; because it was easier to take care of.

All of those things were true, but they weren’t the reasons he insisted on staying in the city.  

The real reasons were things he couldn’t bring himself to say to her and so he didn’t.  How could he tell her that he couldn’t stand the thought of her being naked in his bed or sipping tea in his kitchen or sitting out on the patio in the sunshine and overwriting all of those memories he had of Harry doing those exact same things?  

Still, he didn’t even spend any more time in her apartment than he had to.  He always had an excuse as to why he needed to leave.  He needed to go write with Liam; he needed to go lay down some vocal tracks at the studio; he had a meeting at the record label.  His work was endless and he did his best to keep it that way.

Today though, he had lied.  He didn’t have a meeting with Liam.  He didn’t have anything to do at all.  He needed to go somewhere that wouldn’t matter, where he didn’t have to pretend, where he wouldn’t have to, at the very least, talk about why he didn’t want to talk.  

He went to see Zayn.  

 

“Enjoying the break?”  

“Eh,” Louis answered.  “I guess.”

“Liam says you two have been writing a lot.”

“We have.”

“Anything good?”

“Maybe one or two things...but nothing is coming out quite right.”

“No?”

“All Liam wants to do is write sappy love songs.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“I suppose not,” Louis said, but he didn’t agree.  Well, it wasn’t so much that he didn’t agree, just that he wasn’t really relating to the sappy love songs as of late, and so none of them struck him as particularly interesting.

He watched as Zayn drew an ornate design with his pencil, the curves and arcs coming together seamlessly, as if he didn’t have to think about it at all.  

“What’s that,” he asked.  

“New tattoo design, I think.  I can’t quite work it out exactly how I want it, or where I want to put it.”

“Pretty sick,” Louis said, though there wasn’t much sincerity in his voice.

Zayn nodded slightly, and turned his concentration back to his drawing.  

Louis stared at the paper, hypnotized by the movements of Zayn’s hand across the sheet of paper.  Zayn was always the person Louis came to when he needed to be alone but not alone.  Zayn rarely pressed for information, was quiet and happy enough to sit in companionable silence, or play a video game, or smoke a cigarette and have a drink.  If you wanted to ruminate on the meaning of life, Zayn was happy to do that too, but he never asked too many questions, and he never asked the wrong ones.

As Louis sat entranced, Zayn suddenly growled in frustration and crushed the paper into a ball with his fist.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Not right.”

“But it was beautiful.”

“Doesn’t mean it was right,” Zayn answered, tossing the paper into a trash bin.  “Just because things are beautiful doesn’t mean they are right,” he repeated.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”

Louis looked at his lap, but he felt Zayn’s eyes on him.  

“I’m guessing you came here to talk.”

“Quite the opposite, in fact.  What makes you think that I have something to talk about?”

“Just a feeling I have,” Zayn answered.  Louis wasn’t unused to the idea that Zayn was intuitive, that he picked up on things you thought you were hiding.  He had learned that lesson quite a while ago.  But he didn’t realize he was doing such a poor job of concealing his agitation today.  

“It’s nothing.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, fine, but don’t say it’s nothing.  Because that’s obviously a lie.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Zayn said, and pulled out another sheet of paper, studying the blank space while he twirled the pencil between his fingers.  They sat there silently, but as the moments passed and Zayn stayed quiet, Louis grew more and more curious.  Zayn obviously knew something and Louis wanted to know, desperately, but he was afraid to ask.   

“I’m not going to tell you unless you ask,” Zayn said quietly, reading Louis’ thoughts.  It drove them all crazy, the way Zayn knew them all so well.  

“Ask what?”

“You’re sitting there, wringing your hands and shaking your leg, and you look like you’re going to throw up.  I know why you came here, don’t think I don’t.  But I’m not going to just give you what you want.  You have to ask.”

Louis looked up at Zayn, and back at his hands in his lap.  He did feel sick, and trapped, and it was true.  He had come because he wanted to know.

“Fine.  Have you talked to him?”  

“I have,” Zayn said simply.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Is he...okay?”

“I’d say that is up to interpretation.  He’s safe, if that’s what you mean.  He hasn’t gone and done anything completely stupid.”

“Good.”  Louis felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  “Did he say anything...about me?”

Louis knew Zayn wouldn’t answer that question and Zayn said as much.  “You know I won’t answer that.”

“I know.  I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, but I’d really like to know what exactly is going on.  And you know I hate to ask too many questions, because it’s not usually my business but can you tell me what it is you did to him?”

“What did I do to him?  Me?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Louis answered.  Because it was the truth, but it was also the problem.  He hadn’t done anything at all.  

“Well, I can’t say I believe that entirely.  I’m sure you have your reasons, but he….”

“He what, Zayn?  Tell me, please.”

“Hard to tell, really.  Wasn’t quite himself, but you know how he can be.  He just sounded sad, bro.  He sounded lonely.”

Louis fought against the tightness in his chest, trying to decide what to say.  “Bro, you can tell me what’s going on.  Don’t keep it all in.  It’s obviously destroying you.’

“Is it that obvious?”

Zayn just nodded slowly while Louis exhaled and tried to chose his words.  

“He wanted me to leave Eleanor or….”  He trailed off.  He wasn’t sure he could say it out loud.

“Or what?”

“Or let him go.”

“And that’s what you chose to do.  You chose to let him go.”  Zayn said it without judgement, for he never judged anyone’s choices, but it made Louis feel sick to hear someone else say it.  “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?  For what?”

“That you had to do that.”

“I didn’t have to do it, Zayn.  I didn’t.  I shouldn’t have.  But I don’t know how to fix it now.  How many more times can I apologize and ask him to give up his life for me when he gives up so much of everything he is for all of us?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fuck.”  Louis slammed his fist into the sofa, wishing it was hard concrete instead.  He needed to feel pain, wanted to feel punished.  

“Louis, don’t,” Zayn said quietly.  “I know it’s not been easy.  But…,” he said, pausing, weighing his words.  

“But what?”

“It’s just...something he said, something that made me feel a bit uneasy.”

“What?  Tell me what he said.”

“Contract time is coming, Louis.  Do you remember what happened last time?”

“Everything worked out fine last time.”

“Yes, but it was pretty messy, don’t pretend it wasn’t.”  

“He needs to come to London,” Louis said forcefully.

“I wouldn’t count on that, mate.”  Zayn looked at him.  

“Well, he has to come back, doesn’t he?”

Zayn shrugged.  “I don’t think he cares so much anymore, about what he has to do.”

“Now what does that mean?”

“You know the answer to that, better than I do, I’m sure.”

Louis sighed.  

“So things are good with Eleanor then?”

“Hardly.”

“I don’t understand.  I can’t help you if you don’t explain it to me, you know.  Or maybe you don’t want help?”  

“It’s not that.  It’s just….”

“Eleanor loves you, you know.”

“I do.”

“And I assume that you love her?”

“I can’t let go of the fact that this is all her fault.”

“How is any of this her fault?  She doesn’t know about you and Harry.  And in the end, you chose her, yes?.”

“She does know,” Louis said, so quietly he didn’t know if Zayn had even heard him.  He lifted his face to meet Zayn’s eyes.  Zayn was quiet, and Louis didn’t want to know what Zayn really thought of him in that moment.  “She’s always known, really.  Or been suspicious, at least,” Louis explained.  “Sort of.  But we got careless, reckless.  We screwed up.  I screwed up.”

“So she talked to you about it?  Recently I assume?”

“No.”

“No?  You do realize that this is making less and less sense, the more you say, don’t you?”

“We argued about it once, a long time ago.  Years ago.  But she has never said another word about it.  To me, anyway.”

“Then how did all of this come about?”

“They talked.”

“She and Harry?”

“Yes.  She and Harry.”

“Christ.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Did he know?  That she knew?”

“No.  He didn’t.  But he does now.  And you can imagine how that made him feel.”

“It’s hard to be the one in the dark.  Is that why you’re angry at her?  Because she told him she knew?”

“She could have left well enough alone, but she had to go and get into his head and tell him things he didn’t need to hear.”

“You don’t think he needed to hear them?”

“It would do nothing other than hurt him.  I just wanted him to be happy.  I wanted to protect him.”

“Protect him from what exactly?  It seems like the only thing he needs protecting from is you.”

Those words felt like a slap coming from Zayn, and Louis jumped up immediately, knocking over the chair as he did so.  The metal chair clattered to the concrete floor while Louis stared at Zayn, who stared right back.  “Don’t you for one second even imply that I did not have Harry’s best interests at heart, that I’ve never ever not had had his best interests at heart.”

“That’s not what I meant, Louis.”  Another person might have told Louis to calm down, to relax, but not Zayn.  He just let it come, watched as Louis was sure his tumultuous array of emotions played out on his face.  “I’m not the enemy here.  I’m just trying to make sense of it all.”

“There’s nothing to make sense of.  You know the deal.”  This conversation was frustrating him and he felt his anger rising, along with the volume of his voice.  “If it isn’t Eleanor it is someone else.  Harry knows that, too.  He didn’t have to do this.  He didn’t have to do this,” Louis shouted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to post a quick note because I would really love to acknowledge Dio8199 and thank her so much for her help in this process. This would be so much harder, and much less fun, without her. Her editing assistance is so valuable, but beyond that, she lets me ramble on at her about the nonsense in my head. I appreciate it more than I can say.
> 
> Also, thank you so much to those of you reading this story. It makes me so happy and means the world to me!


	7. Chapter 7

Harry forced a smile to his face, and wondered if it would show up well or look like more of a grimace.  He was trying to be nice and entertaining but all he had really wanted was to go to this show and listen to the music, maybe have a drink.  He had planned to come with a friend, but said friend had cancelled at the last minute.  And though Harry’s bodyguard was along for the ride, he refused to be anything other than professional.  He was at work, he had said.  No drinking, no chatting, he had said.  Work.  Harry thought that was all quite boring, but Stuart was Stuart.  No changing that.  

The girls surrounding him chatted at him for a moment, and when his answers were more mumbles than enthused replies, they took the hint, thanked him, and moved on so that he could be alone.  

He closed his eyes, his arms crossed on the bar, and listened to the music play behind him.  He couldn’t help but think about how ironic it was that he was one of the most popular people on the planet and yet he was so utterly alone.  He hadn’t talked to anyone he really knew in weeks, other than Zayn.  That had not been the most productive conversation.  The minute he had said started with his “I know something is wrong but I won’t mention it if you don’t want to talk about it” voice Harry had hung up the phone.  It was too hard talking to the people who knew him.  

“Who are you?”

He looked up into the face of none other than Celeste.  

“A fool,” is what he answered.

She nodded, her mouth slightly open.  “Aren’t we all?  Some of us are just better at pretending that we aren’t than others.”

“I’m tired of pretending,” he answered.  It must be the liquor getting to him, the thought, because that was the only thing that could account for his honesty in this particular moment to a girl he had only seen in the dark of night while he was out for his runs.  They never exchanged more than a few words, but he had come to appreciate them nonetheless.

“Then don’t.  You can start by telling me who you are?  Most guys, no matter how good looking do not have people lining up to take pictures with them.”

“I told you my name.”

“Yes.  Harry.  I remember.  Quite unique, that name.”

“You seriously have no clue?”

“Should I?”  She paused.  “Of course, I suppose I should, based on that display I just watched.  Also, based on that big guy over your shoulder there in the corner who keeps eyeing me suspiciously.  Do I look dangerous?”

Harry didn't think she looked dangerous, but she had a certain dangerous air about her.  Or not dangerous really.  Tempting was more accurate.  “You are quite startling when you jump out at me in the dark, but no.  I wouldn’t say dangerous.”

“So, who are you?  If you don’t want to tell me, say so, and I’ll not ask again.”

“I’d rather not say, then, if that’s okay.”

“Should I be afraid?”

“No.  I don’t think so,” he added.  “I’m not scary.  I’m quite nice, in fact.”

“I can tell.”

“Oh?”

“Well, when some celebrity is in a private club and is accosted by shrieking girls, most would run the other way.  You were quite accommodating.”

“I try to be.”

“Why didn’t you invite me here tonight?”

“What?”

“You should have asked me to come along.”

“I’m sorry.  I don’t make a habit of asking out strange girls who creep in the shadows in the middle of the night, smoking their cigarettes and accosting me while I try to exercise.”

She smiled.  “Fair point.  Have you heard them before?”

“I have, yes.  We are well acquainted, actually.”

“So why are you sitting out here, when you could be backstage with all of the VIPs?”

“I didn’t realize you were so chatty.  I had the impression you were quite the opposite.”  

“It’s the vodka,” she said unapologetically.  “I’ll have another,” she said to the bartender.  “So, are you here alone?” she asked him.  “Aside from the hulk over there.”

“The Hulk?”

“Isn’t he some like, meaty, powerful, superhero dude?”

Harry laughed.  “I guess….  But his name is Stuart.  And he controls his temper better than The Hulk.  Usually.”

“Is he going to follow us everywhere we go?”

“Where are we going?”

“Outside, for starters.  I need a smoke.”

“You should really stop that.”

“I don’t need a lecture.  Are you guys coming or not?”

“I’ll come.  He can stay here.”

It was late, dark, chilly.  She stood in her boots, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she tried to keep warm while she smoked her cigarette.  They were quiet and Harry could hear the thumping of the bass drum from inside, the grating sound of a heavily used distortion pedal.  The lead singer was a friend of his, but judging by what was going on inside, he was already plastered and Harry wasn’t in the mood for dealing with someone else’s troubles just now.  

In a lull in the music from inside, Harry caught the sound of Celeste’s chattering teeth.  “Don’t you have a coat to offer me?” she joked.  

“Funny,” he said, standing there in his sheer shirt.  

“Seems we both underdressed,” she teased, eyeing the thin black fabric that hinted at Harry’s defined abs and dark tattoos.

Harry watched Celeste in the dim light of the alley, the way her red-stained lips puckered as she blew the smoke out of her mouth. He watched her, and she made him feel lonely, though that really made no sense because she was really the only real company he’d had in weeks.  He could see the goosebumps on her bare arms, and noticed the way that her flimsy silk shirt clung to her breasts, leaving little to the imagination in this weather.

“Why did you call yourself a fool?”

“Because I am one.”

“Yes, of course you are, but why?  Has some girl broken your poor heart?”  

“You could say that,” he answered.  “Though it’s a bit more complicated.”

“Will I read about it in the papers soon?  About the mysterious Harry and his star-crossed love?”

Harry gulped nervously.  “I hope not.”

“Whoa, dude.  I was just joking.  You’re white as a sheet.”

“I’m just cold.”  

“I’m sure that’s it,” she said sarcastically.

“I think you need less vodka in your life.”

“You’re probably right,” she said, smiling again and lapsing into silence.  

He watched her, and he wanted to want her.  He wanted to look at her and need her, to ache for her.  He wanted her to make him feel normal, feel loved, feel something.  He wanted to want to reach out to her and touch the silk of her shirt where it met the small swell of her breast, wanted to want to feel the hardness of her nipple under his thumb.  

But he didn’t, which made what he did next make little sense at all.

“Kiss me,” he said.

“What?”

“Kiss me,” he repeated, grabbing her hand and pulling her close.

She did.  

She kissed him, and he kissed her, and he could smell her shampoo mingling with the moldy scent of the alley they were standing in and she tasted like tonic and her menthol cigarette, and though it was strange to taste someone else, to feel someone else’s tongue slide along his, he didn’t pull away.  Lost in the moment, even if it didn’t feel quite like what he wanted it to feel like when she pressed her body against his, he let down his guard and reached around her waist, holding her close as she broke the kiss and looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes.  It felt good.  He felt good.     

He was about to laugh, but they were both suddenly caught off guard by the flash of a camera, and then the sound of someone retreating quickly.  

Blinded, Harry squinted in the direction it came from.  It wasn’t in and of itself shocking to him, he wasn’t exactly surprised.   But as his thoughts came together and he realized what he had been doing, of what that camera had likely captured, would be shocking to a lot of people.  Including himself.

“What the fuck?” Celeste said as she stared into the darkness of the alley.  “What the fuck was that?”

“We should go back in,” Harry said quickly, pulling her toward the door.  “Or leave, if you’d prefer.”

“I’d prefer to stay right here and finish what I started,” she said, leaning into him.   

Another flash.  “Shit,” Harry said.  

“Dude, whoever the fuck--,” she started, but Harry cut her off, pulling her close to him, and hopefully out of the way, even though it was too late.

“Did some perv just take pictures of us kissing in an alley?  Is that what just happened?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“Then….?”

“Just give me a minute,” he told her.  

“Are you okay?”

He wasn’t.

“Can you go get Stuart?”

Looking worried, she yanked the door open and walked inside quickly leaving Harry in the alley.  

He wasn’t okay.  His heart was racing.  He couldn’t catch his breath.  He wasn’t sure what had just happened, hadn’t thought through the consequences, but he was pretty sure he had just kissed a girl in front of a photographer who would surely be selling those photos to the highest bidder within hours--if not minutes.  

Stuart came barreling through the door, and ran down the street.  

“Stuart said I should get you home,” she said to Harry, putting her arm around his shoulder.  “Come on, let’s go.”

Harry didn’t speak as they rode through the city. Celeste sat next to him, but remained quiet.  She didn’t try to talk to him or touch him.  He gripped his phone tightly in his hand.  He was waiting for a call from Stuart telling him whether the asshole who had taken the pictures had been found or not.  He needed to know.  

He stared out of the window, his jaw clenched.  He thought he might be sick and he couldn’t quite sort it out in his head what had just happened.  He hadn’t really meant to kiss Celeste.  But as it had happened, he wasn’t exactly sorry about it either.  He wondered if maybe she might be the thing that could pull him out of this.  Maybe she would be the thing that could make him forget, the thing that might help him to feel okay, to feel normal.  

They rode all the way to his house in silence.  He was doing his best not to panic, and the only thing helping him was that he couldn’t focus on any one part of it for too long.  As the the car stopped in the driveway, his phone vibrated; he was so wound up that it made him jump.  But it was nothing more than a missed call from someone he didn’t want to talk to.

“What is it?” Celeste asked.  

“Nothing,” Harry answered.  

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I don’t know.”

****

_“Did you see all the posters tonight?”  Harry turned toward Louis, shifting his weight on the small bunk so that he could see his face.  “They love us.”  He watched Louis’ face carefully, curious to see Louis’ reaction before he had a chance to mask it as was so often the case.  He saw it there, in that flicker in Louis’ eyes, how it made him feel to be accepted for who he really was._

_“Pretty amazing, innit,” Louis said, reaching up to brush a curl off of Harry’s face, and resting his palm on Harry’s flushed cheek.  Louis did think it was amazing.  Even as he was feeling more and more doubtful, it gave him an extra push, a boost of confidence to see so much support for himself, and for Harry, in the crowds each night._

_And in the adrenaline fueled rush of performing, when he was just himself, it made his heart swell, and he soaked it all in and for those moments he felt free.  So fucking free._

_It’s what made him want to rush into Harry’s arms as soon as the show was over.  It’s what drove him crazy, sitting around after a concert with the others, watching Harry across the room, and wanting so badly to be alone with him.  And nights like tonight, where the performance went off without a hitch, where the audience was loud and proud and supportive, and where the others had made their ways to wherever it was they went, these were the nights that Louis could barely contain himself long enough to get somewhere that they could be alone.  They had sneaked off in the other direction as soon as the show had ended, Louis grabbing Harry’s hand in the darkness backstage and pulling him away from their friends; he had grinned and cracked a joke and made a funny face, and he knew that Harry was his, would be his, and in that moment, it was all he needed.  It was all he wanted._

But.

 _He hated that there was always a_ _but._

_But in the aftermath, when Harry was relaxed beside him, their bodies sticky and sweaty, crammed into a too small bunk of an abandoned bus, when the adrenaline had worn off, that’s when the fear started creeping in, the paranoia.  That’s when he started to pull back._

_Harry watched him, and he felt that sinking feeling creeping through him, deep in his chest, as he watched the expression on Louis’ face change.  “Lou,” he whispered, bending his head down, pressing his cheek to Louis’ bare chest, focusing on the beat of his heart instead of the look in his eyes.  “You’ve got to stop hating yourself.”_

_Louis’ breath hitched in his throat.  Harry knew him so well it hurt._

_“Just breathe,” Harry whispered.  “It’s just_ _me,” he said, flattening his hand on Louis’ stomach, feeling the uneven rise and fall of his diaphragm.  “Just breathe.”_

_Louis tried, but he just couldn’t, and he knew that Harry would notice his shallow breaths, would pick up on the quickening pace of his pulse.  “In the moment,” he started, closing his eyes, and concentrating on the weight of Harry against him, hoping for it to steady him.  “In the moment, it feels so amazing.  It feels so amazing, and perfect, and I can’t believe that we get to do this, that you and I get to do this together.  And when I see you on stage, I can’t even explain how it feels.  You are so amazing and happy, and it’s like the whole world is at our feet.  And I see the support out there, and it makes it all seem so possible.  I can’t wait to be alone with you to show you just how much I feel it, how much I want you and want to be with you.”_

But _, he thought._

_“But afterwards?  Lying here, like this, in some shitty bus when we’ve finally been able to sneak away?  It kills me that this is all that I can give you.  How do you think it makes me feel,” he asked.  “How can I love you so much and give you so little?”_

_“We don’t have a choice,” Harry said, parroting back the words that Louis so often said himself._

_Louis shook his head against the pillow.  “I do have a choice, Harry.  In some things.  I have a choice in how much I ask of you.”  He put his hand on Harry’s head, drowning his fingers in curls._

_“I do it willingly,” Harry said.  “You know that.”_

_“Do you though?  I see how hard it is for you.  I see how lonely you are.  I see how you sit in hotel rooms with me and stare out of cracks in the curtains.  I see how you nervously shake your leg wishing that we could go out together, somewhere, anywhere, instead of sitting inside night after night with room service and FIFA games.”_

_“It’s not like that.”_

_“It is, and I know it.  So don’t pretend for my sake.  I know that you want to go out with your friends, and meet new people and do new things.”_

_“So do those things with me,” Harry suggested, his fingers trailing lower along Louis’ stomach._

_Louis clasped his hand suddenly over Harry’s, stalling his progress.  “Don’t distract me,” he said to the top of Harry’s head, unable to keep a smile from his face._

_“I’m losing patience,” Harry teased, trying to tug his hand from Louis’ grip.  “Get to your point.”  He said it light heartedly, but he could feel how rapidly Louis’ heart was beating, the sweat on his palm clasped over his hand, and he was nervous for what Louis was going to say._

_“This situation is so weird, Harry.  I don’t know how to navigate it.  It’s like a drug, being on stage, and when I see it through your eyes, they way people love us and want us to be together, I see how wonderful it is and how happy it makes you.  And it makes me happy.  Because you’re happy.”_

But _._

_“But it terrifies me, Harry.  And we have had the same conversation a million times, so I don’t need to explain it all again, and I won’t, because I’m so sick of hearing myself talk, so sick of being this person.  And I’m so sick of asking you to be less than yourself.  But I’m not going to pretend that I am going to change either.”  He released his hand from Harry’s.  “We’re fueling the fire on stage in the whispers and the glances and the touches.  I live for them, Harry.  It feels so thrilling, but it’s like an addiction, and I can’t keep it up.  It is distracting us, and it’s making the other lads angry.  We have to back off.”_

_Harry stayed where he was for a moment, listening as Louis’ heart slowed now that he had said the worst of it, and then sat up slowly.  Louis put his hand on his back, unwilling to break their physical contact.  He needed to feel Harry, to touch him, to reassure him._

_“Is that all?” Harry asked._

_“Yes.  That’s all.”_

_“Fine,” Harry said.  “I’ll do it.  Or I’ll stop, whichever.”  Harry resented the way things were so, so, good and then in seconds it all would come crashing down again, usually because of Louis.  He wanted to lash out.  “But.”_

But.

_“I have a request too.”_

_“Fair enough,” Louis said, not liking the edge in Harry’s voice._

_Harry looked over at Louis, looked him in the eye as he pulled his own hair off his face.  “I want to see other people,” he said bluntly.  He hadn’t expected it to feel so awful to watch Louis’ face as he said the words.  He had wanted to be hurtful, but he didn’t know he would hurt himself so much in the process._

_He wasn’t sure he even meant it, but before he could take it back, Louis said, “Okay.”_

****

“Am I going to regret this?” Celeste asked him.  He still hadn’t heard from Stuart and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.  She had stood up to leave finally, and as she walked past him where he was sitting on the sofa, he reached out and grabbed her hand lightly.  “Stay,” he had said, looking up at her, his eyes unable to hide so many emotions that she couldn’t even begin to guess at.  

His long fingers wound around her wrist as she stood there and asked her question of him.  

Harry didn’t even have it in him to say anything other than “probably,” as he loosened his grip, sure that she’d leave.

But instead, she lowered herself next to him, pressing one knee into the cushy purple velvet of the sofa and folded her leg underneath of her, facing him though he was staring at his hands.  She reached out and put her hand against his neck; he shivered at her touch, whether from the iciness of her hands, or the unfamiliar feeling of someone touching him so intimately, he wasn’t sure.  He turned to look at her then, their eyes meeting, and he felt it, that pull that she had over him, mysterious, confusing; aloof, but somehow kind.  Her red lipstick had worn off, barely tinting her lips, and her eyes were wide as she looked at him.  The Celeste who stood against that brick wall every night with a trail of smoke wafting above her head was different than the Celeste he had run into tonight, different than the Celeste who was sitting next to him now.

He reached out where her shirt fell against her leg, and he took the silky fabric between his fingers.  It reminded him of something he didn’t want to think about and so he pushed it from his mind to concentrate on what was happening in the moment, what he was doing here, now, with Celeste.  

“I’m not joking,” he said.  “You’ll be sorry if you stay.”  

“Let me be the judge of that,” she said, leaning into him and brushing her lips against his, softly, gently.  “Why are you so sad,” she asked him, but all he did was kiss her.  

He kissed her more deeply, and he shifted himself so that he could press her into the sofa, moving his weight between her legs, lowering himself onto her.  He kissed her, and he kept kissing her and even though he could hardly breath he knew that stopping wouldn’t make it any easier and so he kept his eyes closed and let her brush his hair away from his face, and he folded his fingers around hers, stretching her arms above her head and pressing into the welcoming fabric of a piece of furniture that reminded him of someone else.

 

The next morning, as the sun peeked through the half drawn curtains, Harry rolled over and reached for his vibrating phone.  

“Hello?”  

“Harry!  Where have you been?!”

It seemed as though Niall was always chipper, no matter when or what time of day it might be.  Harry, exhausted, groaned and flopped onto the pillow, noticing that it smelled different.  It smelled like Celeste.

He smiled a little as he inhaled, and mumbled into the phone.  “What is it, Niall?”  

“Are ya busy?!  Should I call back later?!  Nothin’ important!”

“God, yes.  Please.  Call back later,” Harry groaned, and listened as Niall laughed and ended the call.  

He closed his eyes again.

“Morning.”

He looked up to the doorway, where Celeste was standing in a shirt that barely covered her ass, two coffee mugs in one hand, a sheet of paper in the other.  She watched him watching her.  

“I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed a shirt.  I found it in a drawer over there after you fell asleep.”

“Oh.  Yeah, sure,” he said.  He kept his eyes on her as she moved slowly toward the bed, setting her mug down on the nightstand and handing one to him.  

“I didn’t find any cream or sugar.  I assume you like it black.”

He didn’t really; he didn’t particularly care for coffee at all.  He kept it in the house for Stuart, but he would really have preferred tea instead.  With some pain killers, he thought, just noticing the pounding of his head.  

She settled into the bed next to him, crossing her legs in front of her, and angling her face toward him.  

“Who was that on the phone?” She asked.

“Just a friend.  A way too cheerful friend.”

“God, isn’t that the worst?  Cheerful friends, and this early to boot.”

“I have a feeling he hasn’t gone to bed yet.”

“Ah, even worse.”

Harry took a sip of his coffee.  Celeste smelled like hand soap that masked a faint scent of cigarette smoke that reminded him of Louis.  Everything reminded him of Louis.  

Though it had gotten better, Harry still walked through the house sometimes, late at night, unable to sleep.  He tried to stop relating everything back to Louis, but it was harder this time.  The furniture they had picked out had all been delivered, the dishes that Louis had teased him about.   The bureau of clothes that Louis had left here, both of them somehow thinking they would be back again before too long.  Funny how that turned out.  The more it looked like a home, the less it felt like one.

“What happened last night?”

“Well.  We made out on that fantastic sofa of yours.  Interesting choice, if I do say so myself.”

Harry felt himself blush and hoped she didn’t notice.  “I remember that.”

She nodded.  “And then we got into some tequila, which is probably where your memory problems start.”

“Oh.”

“‘Oh’ is right,” she said.  “And then, I guess we stumbled up here and basically fell asleep.”

“Basically?”

“Um, yes, basically.  To be honest, I thought it was going in a different direction.”

He blushed again.

“Which brings me to something else, speaking of directions,” she said, presenting the paper that she had folded in her hand so that he could read it.

He didn’t even have to glance at the words once he saw the letterhead.  He had seen the same document practically every day for the last four years.  “I see Stuart has returned.”  It irritated him that they were always so on top of things.  Someone knew his every move, every minute of the day.  “Did you run into him?”

She shook her head to indicate that she hadn’t.  “I suppose I have to sign it?”

“They can’t make you sign it, legally.”

“That sounds ominous,” she said softly.  

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, grabbing the paper from her and tearing it into several smaller pieces.  “Don’t sign it.”

“Feeling rebellious today, are you?”

He looked at her over his coffee mug and grinned a bit.  “You have a no idea.”

“Should we talk about the fact that you’re in one of the most popular bands in the world right now?  Or perhaps how embarrassing it will be to tell my friends that I made out with a boybander last night?!”  

He groaned.  “Let’s not, and say we did?  On both counts?”

“Fine by me,” she answered.  

She took his mug from his hands and set it on the table next to hers, and then rose to her knees.  She inched over until she was next to him and then stretched her leg so that she was sitting astride him.  He watched her with a sort of fascinated awe as this happened, seemingly in slow motion.  It had been so long since he had been so intimate with someone this way.  There had been other people here and there, but they were nothing but one night stands, girls to keep him company for a few hours, people he hardly knew and had no intention of getting to know.  He never did this--sat in bed in the early mornings, sipping a hot beverage and chatting easily as he and Celeste were doing now--with anyone else.  With anyone but Louis.  He tried to push that thought away as she lowered her weight on to him and pressed her palms flat against his bare skin.  He sat up, shifting their position and he leaned into her neck, exhaling against her skin, then inhaling as he kissed her there, just below her ear.  He could feel himself needing her, wondered if she noticed, sure that she must as his hands trailed up her thighs, pushing the shirt higher and higher until the tips of his fingers met the swell of her breasts.   He felt himself responding to the feel of her, the smell of her, but was all too aware of the irony of her hands covering the eyes of the two birds tattooed on his chest.  He inhaled, exhaled.  The scent of her against his face, the fabric of her shirt between his fingers, it led him on, propelled him.  But the smell, the feel, it was familiar but it wasn’t right, and he remembered the silk of her top the night before and it was obvious that something was wrong.  His body realized it before his mind did and he lost his momentum, his hands faltering in their progress, the needy ache in his belly subsiding, and he leaned his head against her shoulder, breathless and confused.

Celeste didn’t say anything, but she leaned away from him, took his hands away from his chest, climbed off of his lap.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.  “Getting a bit carried away there.”  His mind raced to find some excuse but his mind went blank when he looked at her.  “Where’d you say you got that shirt?”  

She gave him a curious look, but answered his question.  “That dresser by the closet.  You like your shirts a bit snug, do you?”  

He bit his tongue and felt a certain sort of quiet rage building inside of him.  He was angry at himself and at Louis, and at the shirt and the bed and the photographer and even Celeste.  

“Are you okay,” she asked him, seeing the change on his face.

“Um,” he stalled, not wanting to be rude, but wanting her to be gone.  

“Well, I’ve got some things to do, regardless, so I think I’ll go now,” she offered.

He was going to let her go, going to let her climb off of the bed and get dressed and walk out of his house, and probably out of his life, but he was tired of that happening, and didn’t want it to happen again.  

And so, as he fought against all of those things that wanted her gone, he reached out, smiled at her, pulled her back to him.  

“Stay,” he said.  “Just do me a favor and ditch the shirt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks again to Dio8199!!
> 
> Also, It was fun to see the comments last week. I love to hear what you guys are thinking!


	8. Chapter 8

Harry had invited everyone to his house for dinner now that they were all in the same city.  To reconnect, he had said.  To sit around and relax without having to worry about business before they got back into a rehearsals.  Louis would be lying if he had said he wasn’t disappointed that Harry hadn’t invited only him.  But he couldn’t exactly decline the offer, not when everyone else was going too, and so he had gotten in the van with Zayn, smoked a little weed to ease his nerves, something he had been doing more and more lately, and could only hope that he wouldn’t act like a fool.  

He realized that it was hopeless, though, as he walked up to the house.  Harry had seen them pull up, and he was at the door, his hair loose, his feet bare.  His bare feet brought him closer to Louis shorter height, and it reminded him of when they were younger and heeled boots weren’t part of Harry’s constant wardrobe.  Harry said hello to them both, sweeping his arm behind himself in invitation.  He closed the door and then practically danced down the hallway.  

“We’re in here,” he said, his arm trailing behind him, his printed shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest.  Up close, Louis couldn’t help but notice his sunkissed hair, and the warm glow of Harry’s tanned skin.  LA had been good to him.

Feeling at once elated to be in his presence and heartbroken that he got nothing more than a general, though not unfriendly, greeting, much less a hug or a secret smile, Louis followed after him; it was impossible not to follow Harry.  Anyone who knew him would say as much and Louis was no different.  

He felt Zayn squeeze his shoulder slightly as Harry escorted them into the open kitchen where Liam and Niall were already waiting.

“We’re getting the band back together,” Niall quoted, feigning hurt feelings when the others groaned at his movie reference.  

“It was never apart,” Liam answered seriously.

“It was a joke!  Jeez.”

“Well, I for one am glad that all of my boys are back in the same room,” Zayn said, putting his arms around the shoulders of Liam and Niall.  “Been a while since we’ve seen each other, isn’t that right?”

“Well, maybe if Mr. Styles didn’t hide out in LA in his free time, it wouldn’t have been so long,” Liam said teasingly.

“Funny,” Harry said as he reached out his arm toward Louis to hand him a beer--something from a local brewery that Louis always liked.  It was a casual move, normal, but the familiarity of the act stirred that feeling in Louis that he was trying desperately to tamp down.  Harry smiled briefly as Louis’ hand connected with the bottle.

“Thanks,” he said softly.  He felt a pang of disappointment when Harry looked away so quickly, turning his attention back to the group discussion.  With all of them talking at once, having been out of touch for so long, it was easy for Louis’ withdrawal to go unnoticed, even if it was uncharacteristic of him to be the quiet one.  

Instead, he watched.

He watched Harry.  He watched the way Harry raised his arm, the way his lips pressed against the opening of the beer bottle he was drinking from, the way he was smiling and giving his undivided attention to whomever was talking at any specific moment.  He stared at a stray curl at the base of Harry’s neck, and studied the way his jaw flexed as he answered some question that Louis hadn’t heard.

And finding that watching Harry was too much for him to bear, he looked away and took in his surroundings, trying to see what was familiar, what was out of place.  He saw the kettle on the stove, the one he had bought himself.  The more he looked, the more he realized that Harry hadn’t changed anything since their time here and that gave Louis some glimmer of hope that maybe things weren’t so bad between them as he had thought.  It still looked like his home with Harry, even if it didn’t quite feel that way at the moment.  He glanced toward Harry when he heard his laughter, and their eyes met briefly.  It felt no different than it ever had, that jolt of recognition, of knowing, and he looked away again, feeling that somehow, this would all be okay.  He took a couple steps to look out of the window, and from where he stood he could see the purple sofa.  He had hated the thing and had done his best to turn Harry against the purchase to no avail.  Harry had finally changed his mind.  Remembering what had happened there on that sofa made him blush; he had stopped hating it so much after that.

“Harry?”  

Louis turned toward the unfamiliar voice as the room went instantly quiet.  His eyes landed on a girl he didn’t recognize: her hair was red, her skin pale.  

“Oh,” she said, looking at the confused faces.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I think I left my phone,” she said, walking into their midst.  Most people might be intimidated by the group of them all huddled around each other, but it was obvious that she was not.  

“Hello,” Niall said first, leaning forward from the counter top he was resting against.  “Who might you be?”

Louis noticed the glance she gave Harry before she introduced herself and wondered what it was about.  “I’m Celeste,” she said, reaching out to shake Niall’s hand.  “You must be Niall.”

“How’d you know,” he asked.  

“The accent gave it away.”  He held her hand longer than required and she smiled pleasantly at him.  “You’re quite charming, aren’t you?”  

“Okay, Niall,” Harry said with a laugh.  “I think that’s enough.  Celeste, these are my friends, Niall of course, and Zayn and Liam,” he said, all of them offering their hands in return.  “And this is Louis,” Harry said, turning in his direction.  

“Hello, Louis,” she said.  “Nice to meet you.”  Louis couldn’t help but notice the way Harry was looking at him from where he stood, just slightly behind Celeste, couldn’t ignore the way Harry’s hand rested around her waist, fingers lazily gripping her hip.  

Casual.  

Normal.  

Familiar.

Louis felt it then, that punch to the gut at the realization of what exactly he was seeing.  He could read it on Harry’s face, all the things Harry was trying to say to him over this girl’s shoulder. _I wanted to tell you.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t want you to find out this way._  

But it had happened this way, and so there they were, Harry’s hand on the hip of this girl who was standing between them, his green eyes heavy with apologies and explanations Louis didn’t want to hear.

 ****

  _Louis was waiting for Harry.  He had let himself into the house wanting nothing more than to see Harry.  Wanting nothing more than to lay next to Harry and touch Harry and have Harry touch him.  He missed Harry.  Things had been strained and strange.  After they had finished their tour, they had both had very serious sit downs with very serious people, and were told in very serious terms that their behavior on tour has pushed the limit of what was acceptable.  They had been told that their relationship with one another was obvious and that it needed to be stopped; that it was obvious that no amount of forced girlfriends or stern talks were going to sort the situation out, so they were going to take real and serious steps to put a stop to all of the rumors._

_They were going to send Harry to America, to spend some time in Los Angeles._

_Louis was to stay in London._

_Harry had been angry._

_Louis had been scared._

_Harry had begged Louis to ignore it, had threatened to stay in London.  Being on tour always did this to them, always pulled them closer together while their other priorities waited at home, forgotten.  Harry had easily forgiven Louis for moving out and for trying to make it work with Eleanor once they had been on the road a few weeks.  It had taken a bit of time; Harry was still hurt, even if Louis still came over regularly, never finding Eleanor half as intriguing as Harry.  Harry couldn’t resist him though, no matter how he tried.  Louis loved it, but he also hated that he could not give Harry up, didn’t want to give Harry up.  His heart ached for Harry because he hated to see someone he loved so much be hurt so deeply and so frequently.  He hated himself for it, but still.  He couldn’t give it up._

_Louis missed him desperately while he was gone; their daily texts and phone calls did little to lessen the pain of the separation.  Going from being together nonstop for months on end and then seeing each other not at all left him feeling lost and alone.  He poured himself into his relationship with Eleanor in the mean time, being sure to be attentive to her, going on holiday wherever she wanted, having tea with her parents on Sunday afternoons.  And after a few weeks, it started to feel as if it was all normal.  Even then, he waited anxiously to hear from Harry, and when Harry had told him he was finally coming home, Louis struggled to contain his excitement.  He missed Harry.  He missed him more than he had ever missed anyone in his life._

_Harry hadn’t told him when exactly he would be home.  He had told Louis not to pick him up at the airport, that it would be easier not to deal with the crowds, that he’d call when he was home._

_Louis couldn’t wait though, and Eleanor was having dinner with friends, so it was easy to slip out unnoticed, without explanation._

_He was in the kitchen, putting away some things that he had picked up for Harry, including things to make a dinner, figuring it had been a while since Harry would have had a home cooked meal.  He often joked that he only knew how to cook one thing, but that wasn’t really the case.  He could certainly roast a chicken.  He was happily cutting potatoes into quarters and tossing them into the pan when he heard the door open.  His heart jumped, and he quickly shoved the potatoes in the oven._

_He heard footsteps in the hallway, the door shutting, then Harry’s laugh._

_He felt nervous, but so, so excited, and so he stood there, feeling silly about the huge smile he had planted on his face and waited for Harry to walk through the doorway._

_But then he heard something else, something that wiped the grin off of his face in an instant._

_“So this is it, is it?”  It was an American voice.  An American, male voice._

_“Welcome,” Harry offered.  “Half of it is in shambles at the moment, but we’ll pretend that doesn’t exist.”_

_Louis wasn’t unused to Harry having friends over, picking up people here and there, sometimes inviting them to stay for days or weeks at a time.  Louis felt the disappointment immediately, realizing this would not be a private reunion for the two of them.  He told himself that of course Harry didn’t expect him here; it was meant to be a surprise, but he certainly couldn’t be standing here in the kitchen with oven mitts on his hands and a dumb grin on his face when he met whoever this man was that Harry had brought home._

_So he put the oven mitts on the counter, he brushed his hair away from his face, and he stepped out of the kitchen._

_Louis walked toward the front of the house._

_“Shouldn’t be a problem,” the other man said.  “Should we-,” Louis heard him begin, but then he cut off._

_Something felt wrong, but Louis chalked it up to disappointment in what he had expected this reunion to be.  He felt irritated that Harry would bring some new friend back here when all Louis wanted was to see Harry.  And the thought that Harry didn’t feel exactly the same, well….  Louis couldn’t even fathom it._

_Buoyed by the notion that surely Harry would be just as happy to see him, he continued toward the door, his heart beating harder in his chest.  But when we rounded the corner, his heart fell to the floor.  There was no one there.  He looked around, noticing Harry’s coat on the floor, his boots kicked in a corner._

_There was no where they could have gone but upstairs.  Louis wanted to just leave, didn’t want to go chasing Harry through the house, certainly not if he had a friend there, but he felt compelled to walk up those steps.  He walked down the carpeted hallway.  Oh, if only they had been able to hear his footsteps as he had walked into the room._

_It took his brain a minute to catch up, to put together exactly what he was seeing, because it just didn’t make sense.  It didn’t make sense at all, the way Harry was lying on the bed, the way someone else’s legs were tangled between his, the sounds, in the silence, of their kissing, the muffled giggle that escaped Harry’s throat.  
_

_A sound he knew so well.  A sound he had thought belonged only to him and to Harry in their most private of moments._

_Louis felt like he had left himself.  He felt as though he was somehow watching this, watching these three people in this dimly lit room, and he wondered what might happen next as if he was watching someone else entirely.  It didn’t add up._

_Harry had said that he missed Louis._

_Harry had said he would be coming home._

_Harry had said that he wanted to see Louis._

_Harry had said that he would call Louis._

_Harry had said he needed to talk to Louis._

_As he stood there, watching these two people in front of him, he re-framed all of the things that Harry had said, and realized that all along, he had been seeing it how he wanted to see it, not how it really was._

_He wanted to leave but he was rooted to the ground._

_He wanted to disappear unseen, but he must have made a sound._

_He stood there, watched in slow motion as the boy on top of Harry turned to look at him._

_He stood there, watched in horrified realization as Harry sat up, his lips pink and swollen the way Louis had seen them so often._

_Louis couldn’t hear anything.  The blood rushing to his head made him feel as though he was in a wind tunnel.  If either of the others had said anything, it didn’t register.  He stared at Harry’s face, trying to figure out what he saw there.  Regret?  Embarrassment?  Shame?  Or did he think it was funny, some sort of joke?_

_And how big of an idiot did Louis appear at this very moment, he wondered._

_He started at Harry, and Harry at him, but Louis couldn’t figure out what exactly was passing between them, and that scared him in a way he had never been scared before.  Always, always they had known.  They needn’t share more than a look to know exactly what the other was thinking.  And Harry, he didn’t keep things from Louis, he never had.  There had been moments, indiscretions, flings, but not like this._

_Or maybe…._

_He still couldn’t hear, but he watched as Harry broke their gaze and turned to the other person there, the intruder, though Louis numbly realized that he was the one intruding.  Seeing Harry look away from him was enough to break the spell--curse, rather--that had kept Louis standing there for what seemed like hours, and he turned quickly to run down the stairs.  When he reached the bottom, he didn’t know what to do.  Should he run?  Should he act casual?_

_He slumped against the wall, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes.  He could smell the chicken cooking in the kitchen and he wondered how this night had gone so horribly wrong._

_He could hear muffled voices upstairs followed by the rapid thudding of someone’s feet on the stairs.  Harry’s, he presumed.  Harry came careening around the corner, stopping short and sliding a little when he spotted Louis against the wall._

_Harry looked panicked._

_“Are you fucking kidding me,” Louis said to him, his voice low and even.  His heart was racing a mile a minute.  “What the fuck?  Who the fuck is that?”_

_“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way,” Harry said._

_“Find out?  Find out?!  So, at least I was meant to find out eventually, is that it?”_

_“Lou,” Harry said quietly.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t think you’d be here.  I was going to come see you tomorrow, and tell you.”_

_“Tell me what, exactly?”_

_Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before he spoke.  “That I’ve met someone,” Harry said.  “That his name is Max and that I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it just did.  And that he is good and kind and we hit it off.”  When Louis didn’t say anything, Harry continued.  “I wasn’t looking for someone, Louis.  But I was lonely, and….  A mutual friend introduced us, and we all went to dinner a few times, and then Max asked me out, alone, and I went.  And the whole time, I couldn’t stop thinking about you--”_

_“Is that supposed to make it better?”_

_“No!  I just...it shouldn’t be so hard, Louis, should it?  For us to be together?  If the whole world is against us, and you’re against us, too, then how is that supposed to work?  I can’t hold up the entire thing myself, Louis.  And with Max, it didn’t feel like this huge secret I had to hide.  People make their assumptions that we are just friends, and I don’t mind that, but it isn’t something I feel like I have to hide.  I don’t feel like I need to protect him, Louis, and it makes it so much easier.  And at first, I thought maybe it would just be a bit of a distraction.  I missed you so much...and I was so hurt that you insisted I go to LA, that we play along with this stupid charade yet again.  I just went out with him to distract myself, I swear.  This wasn’t intentional.  But I fell for him Louis.  I did.  I didn’t know how to tell you.  I couldn’t tell you over the phone.”_

_“I thought we had a deal, Harry.”_

_“I know.”_

_“I was okay with the other stuff, Harry, but this?  This isn’t what I agreed to.  I agreed to groupies and the odd fling.  Not some man that you go on dates with and fly across oceans.  I can’t believe this is happening.  It doesn’t make sense.  I know I haven’t been perfect, Harry, but how could you do this?  Without telling me?  At least letting me know that it was a possibility?  At least let me know that you’re bringing some boy home with you so that I don’t show up at your house and cook you fucking dinner like some romantic asshole only to find you in bed with someone else?”_

_“I’m sorry,” was all Harry said._

_“I know,” Louis started through clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice low enough that Max wouldn’t hear.  “I know that this is not easy or fair, Harry.  I know that I have not handled myself in the best way.  I know that the situation with Eleanor is not simple or right.  But you could at least respect me enough to tell me that you’d met someone, Harry.  And that’s what feels so horrible, you know?  Our relationship is not fun and games, Harry.  Not for me, anyway.  I thought we were on the same page, and it kills me that we obviously weren’t.”_

_“Louis, let me…,”_

_“There’s nothing you can say at this point, Harry.  I get it.  I do.  This thing between us is so messy and convoluted and dysfunctional that it’s hard to see straight sometimes, but the moments that I spend with you, that we share together?  They are the only things in my life that feel real and feel right.  And to have that taken away?  Well.  I’m just not sure where it leaves me at all.”  Louis felt so drained that he wasn’t sure he could make it home, but he managed to make his legs take him to the chair where he had tossed his coat, and he managed to slip his arms into it._

_“Louis, please, wait.”  Harry reached his arm out to touch him, but Louis side-stepped it and moved toward the door to leave._

_“Your dinner will be ready in an hour,” he said.  “Don’t let it burn up.  No sense in ruining that, too.”_

 

****

By the end of the evening, they found themselves alone.  it seemed to happen that way often.  Liam would drift off to call his girlfriend, Niall would disappear with a bowl of popcorn to watch a movie, Zayn would go off to sleep.  

Louis didn’t know how to be in this house and not be with Harry.  He didn’t know how to go off to some other room that wasn’t Harry’s, wasn’t theirs.  He didn’t know how to say, 'okay, I’ll see you later' and walk out of the front door.  And so he found himself sitting in the back yard, a fire tapering off in the pit that was built into the ground. They had lapsed into silence as their friends had picked off one by one.  No doubt they’d find them all together somewhere or another later.  It always happened that way, that they would all search each other out, more comfortable falling asleep in the same room than in separate hotels.  

Louis watched Harry across the fire.  He watched as Harry pushed his fingers through his hair, watched as he tilted his head back to swallow the last of his wine.  

“Are you okay?” Harry asked him, breaking the silence.  

Louis had been better if he was being honest.  Being blindsided by the fact that Harry had what appeared to be a girlfriend did not exactly make him feel good, and it brought back memories of the Max situation, which was something he preferred not to think about.  He couldn’t exactly say that.  “Yeah.”

“I’ve missed talking to you.”

“It’s been weird, to be fair.  I don’t think we’ve ever gone that long without speaking.”

Harry nodded slightly and leaned forward.  “I think it was good for us.”

“Do you?”

“Don’t you?  I think it was what we needed.  Clean break and all that.  At least as clean as we could make it.”

Louis chuckled a little.  There’d never really be a clean break for the two of them.  Not until all of this band stuff had run its course at least.  “You seem to have made good use of your clean break.”  He tried to say it lightly, and wasn’t sure he accomplished his goal.

Harry sighed.  “I like her, Louis.  She’s a good girl.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me.”

“I want to, though.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Lou,” Harry said.

“Harry.”

Harry sighed, but he didn’t press the issue and the silence swirled around them along with bits of ash from the fire between them.  

“Are we going to be able to do this?”  

“Yes,” Louis answered.  “We don’t have a choice.”

“Can we be normal though?  None of the ignoring each other?  Just normal?  Friendly, even?”

Louis shrugged.  They had spent so much time on stage playing out their emotions in front of everyone else.  Not speaking out of anger, avoiding each other out of fear.  “I don’t see why not.”  

“Good.  I’d like that.”

“Then that’s how it will be.”  Louis said the words easily enough, but he didn’t feel them.  All he could feel was a dull ache to be close to Harry, to touch him, to kiss him, to feel him move beneath his hands.  He wondered if Harry felt the same, if it was hard for Harry to sit there so close and be so distant, as if what they had had could be erased with a few words and a few weeks time.  He wondered if Harry walked through this house and remembered him, or if he had replaced all those memories now, if he was just okay with it all.  Logic told him that surely Harry wouldn’t replace him so quickly, wouldn’t forget him so easily, but perhaps he had done more damage than he had realized.  Perhaps he had hurt Harry so badly that there was no looking back for him, and the thought of that weighed heavily on Louis’ heart.  It had never been his intention.  

“I’m beat,” Harry said, standing and stretching, his rising shirt displaying his hips over his low slung jeans.  

Louis was certain he’d never be over it.

“You can stay of course,” Harry said as he started to walk away.  “Or Bill will be happy to take you to your hotel.”  

Harry left Louis sitting there and made his way into the house.  Louis watched as he went, watched him walk in the door, watched through the window as Harry walked through the house until he was gone, and Louis was left there alone, outside, the fire dying in front of him.  

Harry found it agonizing to walk away from Louis without a backward glance, not even a ‘good night’, but he forced himself all the same.  He moved away quickly and then slowed once he knew Louis could no longer see him.  He trudged woefully up the steps, his feet heavy.  It felt wrong, leaving Louis out there like that.

It felt wrong walking up these stairs alone.  

It felt wrong walking into the bedroom without Louis.

It felt wrong when he pulled off his shirt and laid down in the bed beside Celeste who murmured sleepily and rolled over to sling her arm across his chest.  

It all felt wrong.

Harry couldn’t sleep.  He lay awake most of the night, wondering how his life had gone this way and why.  He wondered if maybe he had given Louis one more chance, if he had been a little more patient, maybe it would be Louis’ arm around him and not Celeste’s.  

He wondered if maybe he got out of bed and walked down the steps if he’d find Louis still sitting by the fire, or perhaps asleep on the sofa, if he’d object to Harry curling up beside him, if Louis would forgive him for pushing him, for taunting him, for falling in love with Max, for being with Celeste now.  

He wondered if he and Louis would really be able to pull this off, if they could just be band mates and coworkers, if maybe they would truly be friends.

If, if, if, he thought as eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone say thanks to Dio8199 for saving you from the less than stellar chapter that I was trying to stick in here. This one is much better. :)


	9. Chapter 9

“Watch it Harold!” Louis shouted as he sidestepped Harry, who had mistakenly run the wrong way on the massive stage.  Harry twirled away from him at the last second, nearly avoiding a crash.  As their eyes met, Louis gave him a sly look that was almost a smile and Harry grinned as he spun past Louis and glided into his assigned position.

“This choreography is shit,” Louis said the next chance he got, leaning toward Harry and barely moving his lips as he talked over the din of the crowd, being sure that no one could hear him through the mic or record the movement of his lips.  

The music to the next song cued up, and Louis winked at Harry before turning back to face the stadium full of people and sing the opening lines of the song.  Harry closed his eyes against the screaming and the lights and listened to Louis sing the familiar words and reveled, for just a few moments, in the intoxicating sound of his voice.  When Louis sung his solo, Harry belted out the complementary echo, and everything, for those moments, felt normal.

On stage, as long as they were performing, everything felt normal.

But when the last of the music had been played, the final words sung, and they ran off stage, they were careful to go their separate ways.  They hadn't spoken about it--their conversations were kept light and casual--but they kept their distance: no more shared hotel rooms, no more close quarters on buses they couldn't escape, no more bolting off stage to dark corners where no one else could witness their passionate encounters.

No.  They did their best to avoid each other.  

Of course, it would be impossible to keep it up.  

Louis had sneaked out of rehearsals for a smoke and saw Harry walking purposefully through the lot,a motorcycle helmet dangling from one hand, and another tucked under his arm.  He leaned across the wall in front of him, the concrete roughness hot against his bare forearms, and he watched Harry as he strode through the parking lot.  Louis didn't know where he planned to go with two motorcycle helmets; they had a sound check, a show in just a few hours, and security was not going to let him out of the gates without a fight.

Harry stopped suddenly, put one of the helmets between his thighs, and looked at the phone he had pulled out of his pocket.  Louis heard him mutter “shit,” and then watched as Harry ran his fingers through his hair before grabbing the helmet again and looking around the open space.  Louis tried to pretend the that he wasn't watching, though he doubted he was fooling anyone, when he felt Harry’s eyes land on him.  

“Lou!”  He shouted.  “Louis!”  

Louis raised his hand in a wave as Harry jogged over to him, his hair bouncing on his shoulders.  Once he got closer, he stopped abruptly, as if he had forgotten himself for a moment, forgotten that they were supposed to be avoiding each other.

“Uh,” he said.  

“What’s up?”

“I just….”

Louis raised his eyebrows as Harry stalled.  “You just…?”

“I need your help,” Harry blurted out.

“My help?”  Louis’ eyes landed on the helmets.  

“I have an appointment to meet a guy about a thing.  And I can’t go alone, but I’m running late and Celeste was going to come, but she’s got tied up shopping with the girls.  I can ask someone else if you want, but I don’t have much time.”  

“A guy about a thing?”

“It’s about a car, okay?”

“A car?”

“Yes, a car.  I am buying a car.  I need someone to drive it back for me, which is why I can’t go alone.”

“I’m not even going to ask why you are buying a car here.  And why it has to be now.  But...how do you plan on getting out of here?”

Harry raised the helmets in front of him.  “Motorcycle.  I paid a guy to let me out of the back gate.”

“What motorcycle?  You brought your bike?”

“No.  I borrowed one.”

“From whom did you borrow a motorcycle?”

“This guy at the hotel.”

“You borrowed a motorcycle from some guy you don’t know?”

Harry shrugged.  

“Absolutely not,” Louis said.  He was about to list all of the reasons as to why this might be a bad idea until he realized what an idiot he would be to give up an opportunity like this.  “You know what,” he said, pulling Harry’s attention back.  “Why not?”

Harry grinned, “Thank you,” he said.  “Here.  Put this on.”  

Louis came down the few steps separating them, and took the helmet from Harry, forcing it over his head, and followed him around the corner.  When they came into view of the supposed motorcycle that was obviously the one that harry had borrowed, he stopped short.  There was no way….  “That’s the bike?”

Harry forced his own helmet over his hair and swung his leg over it.  “Yep.  Come on.”

Louis wasn't so sure that either of them would survive this trip, but he climbed on behind Harry, wincing as the motorcycle groaned under their combined weight, which wasn’t even significant.   There wasn’t much room, either.  They were pressed together, inch to inch from where their legs straddled the seat, to where Louis’ shoulders were pressed right below Harry’s.  “Jesus,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Louis

“Okay.  Here we go then,” Harry said, bouncing to kick start the bike.  It sputtered and the grew quiet again.  

“Maybe….”

“It’ll be fine,” Harry assured him, starting the bike again.  it stuttered, but came to life in a resentful sort of way.  Louis understood how it felt.  

It didn't bode well from Louis’ point of view, but ever a sucker for Harry, he kept his mouth shut.  

Harry revved the engine, and gave the bike some gas.  They lurched forward unsteadily, and Louis instinctively latched his arms around Harry’s waist, certainly tighter than necessary.  He could feel Harry’s torso shake, obviously the result of his giggling.  

“We've not even gotten on the road yet,” Harry said, craning his neck to look over his shoulder.  “But you can relax a little.  I’ll keep you safe.”  Harry patted his bare hand once, and then revved the engine again, but more smoothly this time before he steered it confidently away from the protection of the stadium.  Louis begged his mind to settle, Harry’s words echoing in his head: _I’ll keep you safe_.  

Louis wasn't so sure as they careened through the unfamiliar streets.  He wondered if Harry even knew where he was going, or how to to get there.  Louis tried to relax against Harry.  He knew that if he stiffened up it would make it all the more difficult for Harry to maneuver the small bike, so he did as well as he could, trying to concentrate on anything but the fact that he was so intimately pressed against Harry.

He paid little attention to their surroundings, and tried to concentrate on practicing the words to his solos, football, the speech he planned for the evening's show--anything but of the press of Harry’s ass between his thighs--until the bike started bucking uncomfortably beneath them.  “What’s going on,” he shouted as Harry led them off the road.  

“What’s the matter with it?”

“I’m not a mechanic, Louis, but I’d say it’s engine trouble of some sort.”

“Lovely.”

“I’m never going to meet that guy now,” Harry said.  

“What guy?”

“The one I was buying the car from.”  Harry said it slowly as if Louis was stupid.  The truth was, Louis had just forgotten that they actually were on a mission to do something other than be alone together.  

“Oh right.”

“Did you think I created some elaborate scheme to get you alone that involved breaking down in the middle of nowhere?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Louis offered.  

“Well, I didn’t.  I legitimately had to go meet this guy.  Celeste was legitimately delayed,” Harry asserted defensively.

Her named dropped like a weight between them.  

“She certainly doesn’t leave your side.  It’s a miracle she lets you come on stage alone.”

“Don’t be unfair.”

“I’m not.  I’m telling you how it looks.  She is attached to you at every go.  She is quite lovely, to be fair, but I’m surprised she went shopping without you.”

“It’s not like that,” Harry said quietly.  “She’s not like that.”

“I’m just saying, I haven’t had a glimpse of you alone in the last three weeks, except when you’re on stage.”

“Why are you pushing this?”

“Are you allowed to shower alone at least?”

“Give me a break,” Harry said, kicking at the bike.

“Are you allowed to--,”

“Had it ever occurred to you that it’s the other way around?  That I won’t leave her side?  How about that?”

“No.”

“Well.”

“Well?”

“Do you have a signal out here?  My phone is shit.” Harry asked, changing the subject.  “We've got to call someone.  We’re never going to back in time.”

“Who do you want to call?”

“I don’t know.  Someone who will keep their mouth shut.”

“About the two of us sneaking off together?  Or about the fact that you borrowed some piece of shit bike, convinced me to ride along with you, paid a guard to let you sneak out--”

“I get your point, Lou.  Call Stuart.”

Louis leaned against a large rock and made the call while Harry circled the motorcycle as if he had some clue of how to fix it.  Louis noticed the way his fists clenched and unclenched over and over again, the way he kicked at the dirt.  He was a lot more angry than he needed to be over something so simple.  

“Harry,” he said when he was done with the call.  “Harry!”  Harry was obviously lost in his own thoughts.

“What.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Harry said sullenly.  

“Can’t you get the car tomorrow?  Or send someone?”

“Yes.  That’s not it.”  Harry coughed as he was engulfed in a dust cloud from a passing truck.

“Stuart will be here in a bit.  Why don’t you come away from the road?”

Harry walked toward him, settled on the other side of the rock that Louis was leaning against.  

“I can’t say your ideas are always the best Harry, but I love that you always think they are.”

“Very funny.”  Harry’s tone was sarcastic, but he erupted into a fit of giggles, leaning back until he was almost shoulder to shoulder with Louis.  “I can’t believe this happened,” he gasped.  “How much of our lives have we spent conniving ways to sneak off together, and the one time it was totally legitimate, this happens and we end up alone.”

“Are we laughing about it now?”

“Don’t we have to?” Harry said, overtaken by his amusement at the irony of the situation.  “What else are we supposed to do,” he asked, looking over at Louis’ face.  “If we can’t laugh about it, then…,” he said, his laughter ending abruptly as he watched Louis try to force a smile to his face.  

Louis lifted his arm, moved his hand toward Harry’s face to brush the hair away from his eyes.  It was a familiar move, reflexive more than purposeful.  

But just as his fingertips made contact with skin, Harry flinched and turned his head away from him, leaving Louis’ hand suspended in midair before he knotted it into a fist and brought it down against the jagged rock.  It hurt.  But not as much as it hurt to have Harry reject him that way; not as much as it hurt that Harry wordlessly stood up and walked away to leave him sitting on the rock alone.

****

_“Everyone’s gone.” Louis smiled mischievously as he leaned against the wall._

_“We shouldn't be doing this,” Harry said, looking over his shoulder as if someone might catch them, even though he knew there would be no one coming._

_“You didn't have to agree to come,” Louis answered.  Part of him wished he felt guilty about this, but he just didn't.  It had been too long since they had been alone._

_Harry glanced nervously at the back door._

_“What are you afraid of?”_

_“I’m not afraid,” Harry said.  “I just….”_

_“Go then.”  Louis nodded toward the door.  “If you don’t want to be here, go.  I won’t stop you.”_

_Harry didn't want to go though.  He knew he should go.  He knew he should stop this, but he didn't want to stop it.  He wished he did._

_He stared at Louis, leaning up against the wall.  His blue eyes were glinting in the low light and he swept his hair off his damp forehead with two fingers.  He smiled and raised his eyebrows.  “What’ll be, Harold?”_

_“I hate you,” he said, without an ounce of honesty in his voice as he took a few steps closer.  “I hate you so much.”_

_“I suppose I can’t blame you,” Louis teased._

_“It isn't funny,” Harry warned._

_Of course it wasn't funny, but Louis didn't know what else to do but joke, to tease.  The discovery of Harry’s relationship with Max had thrown him for a serious loop and he had now spent months agonizing over it, trying to keep his mind on other things, off of Harry.  Of all of the things he worried about or fretted over, Harry having a boyfriend hadn't been one of them.  And when they had all climbed aboard a plane taking them to the start of their next tour, Louis wasn't sure how to act.  Blessedly, Harry hadn't brought Max along; after a few days in London, crammed with uncomfortable meetings and stilted rehearsals, Harry and Max had flown back to LA where they spent the last few weeks before it was time for Harry to go back to work._

_They spent the first few shows as they had so many times before, keeping away from each other, Harry reluctantly avoiding him at every turn as they had agreed.  But it was different the way Harry would keep his distance after they had left the watchful eyes of an invested audience.  It was a strange feeling the way they would all sit around and chat, and instead of getting Harry’s full attention, Harry would be attached to his phone, texting away and smiling at things that someone else was saying._

_But as the days went on, secure in their isolation from real life, things inched back toward normal until it was almost like they had never been apart.  Almost.  But not quite._

_It was nearly impossible for them to stay away from each other for any length of time.  No matter the circumstances, how angry or hard either of them were, it took a concerted effort on both their parts, not to forget where they were, who was watching.  Every time Harry walked by he him had to stop himself from reaching out to touch him; every time Harry said something, he had to keep his eyes from jumping to the sound of his voice; every time Harry sang, Louis wanted to stare at him in awe._

_It was not easy.  It was incredibly draining, and it created so much built up tension that being unable to find a way to release it was driving him nuts.  And after so much time of Harry giving his attentions and affections to somewhere else, Louis was going mad._

_Harry took another step toward him.  His hair was damp from sweat and the show they had just done in the pouring rain.  And another step.  His shirt was halfway unbuttoned, the silken fabric sticking to his skin._

What about Max, _Louis thought.  The words were on the tip of his tongue, but in the instant that the thought sprang to his mind, Harry was against him, their lips pressed together.  He could taste the salt on Harry’s skin and it erased all the thoughts from his head but one._  Harry.

_His hands found his way to Harry’s skin after the sudden shock, he slipped his hands under the damp fabric, his palms sticking to Harry’s bare shoulders._

_He felt Harry inhale sharply as Louis’ hands touched his bare skin._

_He felt his muscles ripple as he trailed his hands down his chest to undo the remaining buttons on his shirt._

_It was only seconds, but they stretched out for Louis as he took in every sensation, the agonizing tension of the last weeks replaced by a new feeling, just as agonizing but pleasurably so._

_He noticed it all._

_He pushed the shirt off of Harry who tore his arms out of it and tossed it aside._

_He felt Harry shiver ever so slightly as his ran his hands down Harry’s back and tucked his hands into the waistband of Harry’s jeans._

_He pulled Harry’s hips closer and could tell Harry wanted this as much as he did.  He slid his hands around Harry’s waist, his stomach, the muscles tensed.  He stilled for a moment as Harry broke the connection of their lips and pressed his forehead to Louis’.  His eyes were closed, and his breath was coming short and quick against Louis’ face, panting.  Louis waited to see what Harry might do or say, if he would break away, if he would run._

_He didn’t though, and as Harry dropped his head to Louis’ shoulder, pressed his lips to his collar bone and uttered a throaty “Lou” his heart exploded into a million pieces.  Exploded because he loved Harry so much, because he needed him so much, because he couldn’t give a single fuck about anything else but having Harry here with him, right now._

_Louis unbuttoned his designer jeans, fleetingly wondering why Harry always preferred them to sweats, and palmed him through the fabric of his boxer briefs.  His tiny, tight, hot pink briefs and he felt the vibration of Harry’s moan against his shoulder._

_“Did you wear these for me,” Louis whispered into his ear, though there was no one else around to hear him speak._

_Harry rocked against Louis’ hand, pinning it between the two of them, and it was Louis’ turn to groan into Harry’s hair._

_And then._

_They both felt it, froze instantly as the phone vibrated in Harry’s pocket._

Fuck.

_Harry stayed still, made no move to separate from Louis, to check who it might be._

_It vibrated again.  “Fuck.”  Harry slammed the heel of his hand against the wall next to Louis’ head.  Louis flinched._

_Harry wasn't looking at Louis.  “Fuck,” he breathed._

_The phone vibrated again.  Louis was frozen._

Max.

_This wasn't supposed to be this way._

Harry.  

_Louis put his hands on Harry’s shoulders, forcing him away so that he could look at him.  “Harry.”_

_Harry wouldn’t look him in they eye, but he could see the way they shined, knew that they had fucked up.  That Louis had fucked up.  That he had led Harry here and encouraged it, and that Harry would never forgive himself for it._

_Harry's eyes were trained on the wall, focusing on the nothingness past Louis's shoulder as he backed away slowly, his pants tugged down past his hips_

_Louis fell back against the wall again, staring at the floor feeling...he didn’t even know what.  So much fucking feeling all the damn time made him feel crazy._

_“Harry, I’m--,” He started as he looked up to see Harry standing a few feet away looking torn between two things he couldn’t reconcile._

_The phone in his hand buzzed again, but he didn’t glance at the screen.  Louis thought he might smash the thing against a wall, but he turned it off instead and set it on the table gently, almost reverently as if it was some sort of sacrificial offering.  He bent to pull of his boots and he pushed his pants down to his ankles before pulling them off entirely, and he stood there, waiting._

_“Come on, then,” Harry said as he backed into the sofa._

_He didn’t need to ask twice._

_Louis went to him._

_Louis touched him.  He rested his fingertips on Harry’s cheek._

_He shivered as Harry’s cool fingers slid his shirt up and over his head._

_He gasped as Harry pushed his sweatpants past his thighs, freeing him._

_Harry tugged him closer as he laid down on the well-worn sofa, pulling Louis on top of him._

_It was what Louis needed, to feel Harry beneath him, for their chests to be pressed together, skin to skin.  He needed to feel the pinch of Harry’s teeth against his shoulder as he pushed into him, he needed the grip of Harry’s thighs at his sides, holding him there, grounding him, making him feel real._

_“God, Lou,” he breathed against Louis’ neck.  Because he needed it too, needed to feel Louis sliding against him, the weight of him, the heat of him.  “Please,” he muttered, forgetting why he shouldn’t have been there, why he shouldn’t have done this, forgetting everything but what he wanted most in the world._

****

The last thing Harry had wanted to do was go to any sort of party.  He was exhausted from the show, from the ordeal with the broken down motorcycle; he was exhausted from trying so hard to resist his old patterns.  But Celeste, who for all of her aloofness was suddenly everyone’s best friend, insisted that they go hang out with the others after the show.  He tried to steer her in a different direction, promising a late dinner and drinks in their private room, but she had declined his offer.  She insisted that, since she was only here for a few more nights, that she wanted to spend it with his bandmates, his friends, his brothers.  

He had no excuse and so he found himself sandwiched between Celeste and Niall on a sofa that barely fit the three of them.  The conversation was loud and convoluted as it always was; they all talked over one another, involved in at least three different conversations at once.  It was typically impossible for an outsider to understand what was going on at any given moment, but the five of them followed along fine.  

“So, Louis,” Celeste started, leaning forward to address Louis where he sat in a chair opposite Niall.  Harry took the opportunity to look at Louis.  Rushed and awkward after the afternoon's ordeal, they had stumbled around the stage earlier, clumsily doing their best to avoid each other.  Now, Louis looked worn out, and his eyes were glassy.  He had definitely had too much to drink.  

“Yes?”

“Tell me something about Harry,” she said.  Harry cleared his throat; Louis nearly dropped his glass.  

“What would you like to know,” Louis said evenly, recovering quickly.  

“What do you think it would be important for me to know?”

An odd grin crossed Louis' face and it made Harry feel uncomfortable.  “Well, there are quite a few things, now that you mention it.”

Celeste laughed at that.  “It’s quite obvious you are all very close.  I want some dirt on Harry,” she said.  “What’s his worst habit?  His kryptonite? What is the most important thing to him in the world?”

_Louis._ His name sprang to Harry’s mind unbidden, the constant answer to all of the questions Celeste was posing.  

“Sometimes I’m not so sure,” Louis murmured.  

Those words cut into Harry like a knife and he stood up abruptly.   “If you’ll excuse me for a moment….”

“What I’d like to know,” Liam started, before Harry could make his exit, “is what exactly happened to the two of you today.”  He looked from Louis up to Harry who was standing beside him.  

“Nothing exciting,” Harry answered.  

“Oh come on lads, it’s always exciting when Harry and Louis disappear and break down on the side of the road, thus ruining sound checks, delaying start times by hours, infuriating thousands upon thousands of teen-aged girls..  It’s like bad fan-fiction waiting to happen.”  This elicited a chuckle from just about everyone sitting within earshot, which spurred Liam on.  “Did you have a--”

“What do you want us to do, Liam?” Louis said, cutting him off.  “We were running an errand, we had some vehicular trouble, we were rescued.  The end.”

“Is that all it was then?  What sort of errand results in a swollen and bloody hand is what I’d like to know,” Liam continued, his eyes resting on Louis’ bandaged fist.  Harry followed his gaze, feeling guilty for Louis’ damaged hand.  Stuart had said it wasn’t broken, but it was cut and swollen and bruised, and Harry felt responsible.

“It was just an errand.  I tripped and fell,” Louis said before Harry could speak.  

“Tripped and fell?  And what?  Punched the floor on the way down?”

“Why are you pushing this Liam? Is it because we were late?  Have you never been late to anything in your life?”

“Actually, Louis, he hasn’t,” Zayn defended him.  “Which is more than the rest of us can say.”

Harry felt disconnected from the exchange, though he felt oddly attacked by Liam.  

“Calm down, boys.  I’m just joking.  It’s not my business what the two of you were up to.”

“Hey, remember that time that they disappeared for like, forever,” Niall said.  “And everyone lost their damn minds?”

“Yes, Niall, we remember,” Liam said.

“And the both of them got in loads of trouble?  And it turned out that--”

“Would you kindly knock it off, Niall?”  Louis asked him, though it wasn’t really a question at all.  

“Oooh,” Celeste said, suddenly intrigued by this new development.  “I want to hear a good story!  I already know about the broken down motorcycle from this afternoon.  But it seems as though the two of you make a habit of getting into trouble.”

“It’s not that interesting,” Harry said.  He knew what Niall was talking about, and it was hardly something that needed to be rehashed here.  And certainly not in front of Celeste.  “Niall has just had too much to drink and so he thinks everything is funnier than it actually is.  Which is actually how he is sober too, just worse.”  Harry playfully nudged Niall with the toe of his boot.  “Right Niall?”

“Shall we go for a smoke, love?”  Louis made the suggestion and Celeste took him up on it.  

“Let’s,” she said.  “Then we can get some privacy and you can tell me all of Harry’s secrets.”

Harry caught Louis’ eye as he stood up and offered a hand to Celeste, trying to thank him for the distraction.

“Louis and I have hit it off, you know,” she laughed.  “He’s quite funny.”

“Lovely.”

“Don’t be like that,” Celeste said, reaching to kiss him on the cheek.  “We’ll be back in a bit.”

“I do like her,” Niall said once she was out of earshot.  

“That’s quite obvious.  But you’re drunk.  You do realize we have another show tomorrow?” Niall could hardly stand and Harry found it more than annoying.  The thumping of the music wasn’t helping, and the smell of too much alcohol and cigarettes, and something else, more pungent, was giving him a headache in such tight quarters.  

“Who cares about the show!  We are amazing!  The best band in the world!  I love us!” Niall said, throwing his fist in the air and sloshing beer down his arm.  

“Okay, Niall.” Harry couldn’t help but laugh at Niall’s unending enthusiasm.  

“Don’t ‘Okay Niall’ ME!  Who are you?  Liam?  Where is Liam anyway?”

“I’m right here, mate,” Liam said.  

“Maybe the two of you can be obnoxious at each other for a little while; leave me and Louis out of it, why don’t you?”  Harry played at being serious and got equally serious nods in agreement.  “Thank you.”

Harry walked quickly to the bathroom, struggling to keep his composure.  This was not going as smoothly as he thought it would.  Being alone with Louis was not as easy as he thought it would be.  Having Celeste around, though it helped, was not really making things as easy as he had hoped it would.  He stared at himself in the mirror, and splashed water on his face, finding no relief from the constant battery of emotions within himself.  He just needed to get out of here, go back to his room and get some rest.  Tomorrow would be better, he was sure of it.

He had expected the two of them to be back inside by the time he returned but as his eyes searched for him-- _her_ , he reminded himself--he saw that they were still on the balcony, standing closely to one another, and obviously engrossed in conversation.

She spotted him looking before he could look away, and waved him out.  

“Can you hold this?” she said, holding out her cigarette to him.  He wrinkled his nose.  

“I’d rather not.”

“Oh, come on.  I know you hate it.  You don’t have to keep reminding me.  I really have to pee though, and I just lit it and it’s my last one.”

“I’m sure we can get more.”

“I’m just asking you to hold it for one minute!  Please?”

He reached out his hand to take it from her and watched as she left the two of them standing there alone.  

“Alone.  Again.” Louis said sardonically from where he was resting his elbows on the railing.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the universe is conspiring against us.  Too bad it couldn’t have helped us a little when we needed it.”

Harry didn’t say anything, just stared into the room full of people and watched as Celeste made her way out of view while Louis looked out at the city in front of him.  

“We’ve done quite well at avoiding each other, until today, I’d say.  Ironic that you bring your girlfriend around to keep your distance and yet she seems to be the reason we keep finding ourselves unsupervised.”  He was trying to joke, to find the humor in the entire situation that Harry had seemed to have done so easily earlier, but it was falling flat.  Things weren’t so funny after all, it seemed.

“Yeah,” Harry said noncommittally, uninterested, distant.  He held Celeste’s cigarette away from his body awkwardly, avoiding the stream of smoke that seemed hell bent on wafting into his face.  

“Here, let me take it,” Louis said.  He straightened and reached toward Harry’s hand, taking the cigarette, careful to avoid physical contact.  “I do like her.”

“She’s great.”

“Seems that way.”

“You two seemed to have hit it off.”

“We have, we have,” Louis nodded.

“Kind of strange.”

“Better friends than enemies, yes?”

Harry shrugged.  He wasn’t exactly sure he liked the idea.  

“Maybe if I like her, if I get to know her, it will be one less thing in your life for me to screw up,” Louis said quietly, but matter-of-fact.  “Maybe I won’t be so inclined to lead you astray,” he added, knowing that Harry blamed him for so many things he could never repair.

Harry bit his tongue at first.  He glanced into the room where he could see Celeste chatting with someone, delayed on her way back to the balcony where her cigarette was quickly extinguishing itself.  She waved through the glass and then plopped down on the sofa next to a zoned out Zayn.

“You know, Lou, maybe things would be better if you stopped blaming all of _my_ mistakes on yourself.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. My goal was to update weekly, but as it is, sometimes real life gets in the way of the things I'd really like to do. Thanks for reading! And thanks to Dio for her help as always. xx


	10. Chapter 10

“How did Louis really get hurt?”

Harry turned to Celeste who was lounging in the bed in a t-shirt ,and not much else, while she worked on her computer.  “What do you mean?”

“His hand?  He didn’t just happen to fall and bust it up that badly.”

“Oh.  That.”  Harry didn’t want to talk about that.  

“Yes.  That.”  She looked over the top of the laptop screen and smiled at him.  “Is there some secret you don’t want to tell me?”

_Wasn’t there_.  “No.  He punched a rock.”

“Why on earth would he punch a rock?!”

“Don’t know,” Harry said.  “Angry I guess.”

“At the rock?”

“It was a really mean rock,” Harry said, flopping down on the bed next to her.  “Louis has a lot of pent up anger regarding inanimate objects.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she laughed as Harry pulled her computer away and climbed on top of her.  “Louis seems really nice.  Not the sort to go around punching poor innocent rocks.”

“You just don’t know him, that’s all.”  Harry kissed her on the nose and ran his hands down her body, tugging at her panties until she lifted her butt to let him pull them down.  “He’s not nice at all,” Harry said slowly before trying to changing the subject.  “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

“Why,” she said, sighing as he slid into her.  “So that I can protect you from mean old Louis?”   She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer.  

“That’s not the only reason,” he murmured.   

Her hands trailed up his back and back down again, and he tried to put Louis out of his mind.  “We all know why I’m really here,” she said as she gripped his shoulders and arched her back into him as he moved against her.  

“Why’s that,” he said, trying not to lose his concentration.

“Because….”

“Because?”  He felt a familiar jolt of fear at being found out; he tried to breathe slowly against her neck, concentrating on the smell of her hair, the feel of her legs wrapped around his, the heat between them.

“It’s quite obviously, really,” she sighed, wrapping her fingers in his hair and pulling his head up so that he would look at her, “You find me absolutely irresistible.”

 

Harry had hardly pulled his pants on before there was a series of bangs on the door to the suite.  “Open up!  We know you’re in there!”

Harry groaned, and Celeste smiled coolly as she headed toward the shower.  

Harry opened the door to find Liam and Louis standing on the other side, obviously thinking themselves quite clever for making so much noise.  Louis and Liam were grinning at each other and laughing but when they turned to face Harry, Louis’ laughter cut off abruptly.  

“Come in, I guess,” Harry said.  He had forgotten that he should be expecting them and felt annoyed, more than anything, that they were here.  

Louis cleared his throat as he passed by Harry.  Harry who was shirtless; Harry, whose pants weren’t even buttoned; Harry, whose boxers had obviously been forgotten.  He wondered if Harry had done it on purpose, or if perhaps he didn’t know just how obvious he always was.  “You could at least bother to get dressed, Harry.  We are here on business after all.”

Harry shrugged.

“Nothing we haven’t seen before Tommo,” Liam quipped.  It felt like a knife twisting in Louis’ back.  Liam didn’t even know what he was saying and he was oblivious to what they had just walked in on.  This wasn’t some dressing room scene before another awards show.  Liam wasn’t noticing the things that Louis was.  He wasn’t noticing Harry’s glistening, heavy lidded eyes or his pink lips, his wild hair and ruddy cheeks.  Maybe he didn’t notice that Harry’s pants weren’t even buttoned or that he was obviously wearing nothing beneath them.  He didn’t notice the way he smelled.  He didn’t notice all of these things that pointed to one obvious conclusion:  this was Harry, _Louis’ Harry_ , obviously entertaining someone else.  Even more obviously, and worse, someone else seemed to be doing quite a good job at entertaining him.

“Are we interrupting?” Louis barely choked out.

“Not at all,” Harry said.  Harry pulled a few bottles of water out of the fridge and set them down on the counter.  “Do you want something to eat?”

“Niall will,” Liam said.  “Better bring something.”

Harry sauntered back into the main room, giving no indication that he might get fully dressed, and set down the snacks and drinks that he had pulled out for everyone.  He opened a bottle of water and drank it down in a few long gulps, then opened the banana he held in his other hand.  

“Really, Harry,” Louis said as he looked away.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“How’s your hand,” Harry said with a mouth full of banana.  

“Maybe swallow that first before you choke.  My hand is fine.”  It wasn’t fine, not really.  It hurt like hell, but he wasn’t about to tell Harry that.  

Harry rolled his eyes but chewed the banana carefully before swallowing.  “Good.”

“Do you to care to explain what actually happened?  I had assumed it had to do with you, Harry, for the way you’ve been acting lately,” Liam said.

“Whatever do you mean, Liam?”  Harry was not at all interested in explaining himself to anyone, especially Liam.

“You know bloody well what I mean,” Liam answered.  

“He’s the idiot who punched a rock, not me,” Harry said.  

“Punched a rock, did you?” Liam looked at Louis, and then turned to Harry.  “Because of something you did?”

Harry and Louis both stared at the crackers sitting on the table and refused to answer the question.  Harry knew it was about him.  He knew that having Celeste around was the best thing to keep them apart, to prevent their typical cycle, but he knew it was hurting Louis more than he let on.  He knew that, no matter what Louis said or tried to do, no matter how much effort he was putting in, that this wasn’t easy.  He knew because it wasn’t easy for him either.  He wanted, badly, for Louis to be okay with this.  He wanted badly to believe that if he put in enough effort, that he would put enough distance between the two of them, emotionally if not physically, to break them of whatever this was that they were in.  

After all, wouldn’t it be better to keep it this way, to make a break and make it permanent, to deal with all of the heartbreak at once instead of a million times over?  

“Or something you didn’t do,” Liam suggested as there was another knock on the door.  Harry glared at Liam and went to open it.  

“Hey,” Niall said, less than his cheerful self.  

“Had a bit too much last night?”  Harry asked it with a knowing grin as Zayn walked past him and and patted him on his bare stomach.

“Are we having a clothing optional meeting?” Zayn asked.

“Isn’t clothing always optional?”  

Zayn nodded.  “I suppose.  How’s your hand bro?”  Zayn sat down between Louis and Liam.  

“Fine.”

“Your injured hand is quite the story,” Niall said, tossing down a stack of papers on the table between them and grabbing a cracker.  “Allison gave me these on our way over.  Dozens of articles discussing what might have happened.”

“What do they say?” Louis asked, not interested enough to pick up the sheets of paper and see for himself.  Harry was pushing the papers around, but didn’t choose to enlighten him.  He watched Harry’s face, but couldn’t get a read on what he thought.  

“Bar fight.  Fell skateboarding.  Management--that’s hilarious, by the way.  Apparently it is made up by management for publicity or some shit.  To get sympathy,” Niall answered.

“Well, that’s a crock of shit,” Louis answered.  

“Fight between you and Liam, you and Zayn, you and me.  The absolute best is that they think you and Harry got into it, and that you hit him because you hate his new girlfriend.”  Niall laughed as he shoved another cracker in his mouth.

“It’s not that hilarious, for god’s sake, Niall.”

“It is.  As if you’d ever hurt Harry.”

The room was fairly silent, all of them ruminating on Louis’ hand, the ridiculous theories.  

“So which is it?” Niall said.  

“They’ve picked up the girlfriend story, have they?”  Zayn grabbed a picture from the pile and looked at it before picking it up and showing it to Harry.  “Where’d that come from?”

Harry grabbed it from him and stared at the photos he had thought no one would ever see, the photos of him and Celeste in a dark alley.  “I thought Stuart had caught the guy that got those.”  

“Apparently not.”

Louis didn’t want to see the pictures, but he couldn’t help but look at them.  “Quite discreet, eh Harold,” he heard himself say.  “You could at least do it behind closed doors.  Perhaps not create such a spectacle.  Maybe not rub it in everyone’s faces.”

Harry grit his teeth.  “It wasn’t meant to happen,” Harry said.  “These weren’t supposed to be seen.”

“Pretty hot,” Liam said.  

Louis grabbed the pictures from Liam, disgusted at the way they were ogling them, and studied them.  It wasn’t something he preferred to look at, though it couldn’t be worse than seeing Harry moments after he had left someone else’s bed.  He didn’t know what he was looking for, exactly.  Answers, he supposed.  He wanted to see the truth in the way Harry touched Celeste.  But when he looked at the three shots, he saw nothing he wanted to see and everything he wanted to see all at once.  

“Niall, do you have the agenda?”  Liam asked.

“Agenda?”  Harry said.  “Do we really need one?”

“We’ve got a lot to get through.  I didn’t want to forget anything.”

Louis was too busy analyzing the photographs to care about a stupid agenda.  He looked at the way Harry stood up straight and Celeste leaned toward him, the way she touched his face, the way he didn’t touch hers; the looks on their faces as they faced the offending photographer, taken by surprise.  There was something in Celeste’s expression that made him feel unsettled.  It didn’t read as anger to him, or even surprise, but he didn’t really know her well enough to tell.  He knew Harry well enough though, and to Louis, the look on Harry’s face was one of devastation; he looked as if his world was crashing down.  

Louis glanced up at Harry over the images to find him ignoring the chatter in the room and looking at Louis.  Their eyes met for a brief second and then Harry reached across, snatching the paper out of Louis’ hand and crumpling it into a ball in his fist.  

“Okay lads,” Liam said.  “The agenda, as it stands is Tour, Album, Merch...and Harry and Louis.”

“Why are we on the agenda?” Harry asked.

“Why do you think?”  Louis held up his hand.  

“That,” Liam agreed, “and the fact that months ago Louis told me he wanted to put the whole thing up to another vote.”

“Did he,” Harry said dryly.  

****

_“Well, it’s out now.  All of you certainly know,” Harry said.  “And everyone else does too, even if they don’t want to actually believe it.  What are they going to do?  Fire us?  We are their biggest act.  I hardly doubt that sales will be affected.  Because some 12 year old doesn’t think she can marry me?  Because I’m in love with someone else?  It’s bound to happen eventually, regardless of what sex that person may be.”_

_Louis was the only one who wasn’t looking at Harry.  They had already had this conversation, and he was watching the faces of the other boys, trying to gauge their reactions.  He wasn’t reading much more than confusion and discomfort.  As Harry continued his tirade against their management company, Louis grew more and more uncomfortable.  Where Harry had expected their friends-slash-band-mates to immediately rally around them in a show of support, Louis had not been so hopeful._

_He had been right._

_He thought he would be relieved, but he wasn’t._

_Liam was the first to speak up.  “Now, Harry, I don’t think you are being very realistic,” he interrupted, clamping his mouth tight when Harry turned to him with a grim look on his face._

_Zayn put a hand on Liam’s leg.  “Let’s let him say what he has to say.”_

_“But--”_

_“Let’s just hear them out.”_

_“Yes, let’s hear them out,” Harry said, turning to face Louis.  Louis looked up into his face and he could see the anxiety there, the worry, the way that Harry had suddenly deflated when Liam had spoken, ruining any illusion that they might all agree that Harry’s idea was best.  “Louis?  Do you have anything to say?”_

_Louis didn’t want to be here, and he certainly didn’t want to be doing this.  He had warned Harry that this wouldn’t go the way he wanted it to go.  He looked at Harry meaningfully but he couldn’t think of anything to say.  Harry nodded at him, so slightly that no one else, save for maybe Zayn, noticed._

_“Like, what if you guys change your minds,” Niall said, ignorant of the tension between Harry and Louis when Louis hadn’t said anything for several moments._

_“You don’t just change your mind about something like this,” Harry shot at him.  “What the fuck?”_

_“Whoa,” Niall said, putting his hands up.  “That isn’t what I mean.”_

_“I think what he’s trying to say,” Liam inserted, “is that once you put it all out there, it’s all out there, right?”_

_“Exactly, geez.  I’m not a total ass.”_

_“Harry,” Zayn said, standing up and walking toward him, not caring that Harry flinched when he touched his shoulder.  He put his arm round him all the same.  “Let’s just talk this out.”_

_“Why are you all looking at me like that?”  Harry asked, feeling suddenly small and stupid and lonely._

_“I’m not looking at you like anything!”  Niall said.  “I just want to know when lunch is.”_

_“It’s not even 11,” Liam answered.  “Lunch isn’t for hours.  How can you even care about lunch right now.  Our entire careers are at stake.”_

_“Steak would be good.”_

_“Niall!”_

_Niall rolled his eyes at Liam’s scolding tone.  “All I’m saying is that if someone doesn’t feed us soon, it won’t matter what happens months from now because we will have all starved to death.”_

_“Look,” Liam said, choosing to ignore Niall.  “We’ve got to sort this out.  I do understand where you’re coming from, and I don’t blame you for feeling like you feel, but I don’t think we can take this decision lightly.”_

_“Easy for you to say,” Harry mumbled._

_“What’s that?”_

_“I said, EASY. FOR. YOU. TO. SAY.”_

_“Now what’s that supposed to mean?”_

_“I think that what Harry is saying is that out of all of us, you have it easiest, so it might be hard for you to understand exactly how difficult this can be,” Zayn explained.  “Please, don’t jump down my throat, Liam.  I am not trying to insult you.  You know I’d never do that.  But, out of all of us, you have the most freedom to be exactly who you are.”_

_“Because they know I’ll act right,” Liam shot out.  “I’m not sure why you are all attacking me.  I’m not the one who is threatening to tear this whole thing down.”_

_“No one is threatening to tear anything down,” Louis said quietly from the corner.  He hadn’t meant to speak, but he couldn’t stand the way Harry looked, and he hated that Zayn was the one to comfort him and stand up for him, when Louis was the one who loved him._

_“We’re just having a conversation,” Zayn said.  “I think that is only fair, isn’t it?  We’ve got five people here, and we all need to make it work for ourselves, as well as each other, don’t we?  If one of us is unhappy, surely we all want to do everything we can to make sure that isn’t the case, don’t we?”  He waited for everyone to nod in agreement, and they all did.  “What we need to figure out is how we can work this out so that everyone can be relatively pleased with the situation.  I think we should start from the top, the things that we can all agree on, and go from there.”_

_“Maybe we should get someone else in here who actually knows what they are talking about,” Niall suggested._

_“No!” Louis and Harry said at the same time.  They locked eyes, and Harry knew then how this was going to happen.  He spoke up so that Louis didn’t have to._

_“We don’t want anyone else involved.  This is between the five of us.  I know I’ve gotten carried away, but the fact is, Louis and I agreed that this would be a band decision because it affects all of us.  But we don’t want any other input.  If you call anyone else in here, they will lock this whole thing down and we will all suffer worse for that, you know it.  They get a little scared and they’ll lock us down.”_

_“So are we supposed to take a vote or something?”_

_“You just want to speed this up so you can eat, Niall, and I don’t think that’s very fair.”_

_“Do not, Liam!”_

_“I don’t know what’s best.  Maybe we should start from the top like Zayn said.  Leave this for last,” Harry suggested._

_“I think we should just get right to it,” Louis said._

_“Should we talk about it, though?” Zayn asked.  “I think it makes sense for it to all be out on the table so we can make an informed choice.”_

_“What is there to talk about?  Harry and I being together and all that that means and implies?  Do we need to talk about whether or not the fans will accept it?  What about management?  What about it all?”_

_“Just because we all agree doesn’t mean that it will be the final say, anyway, we all know that.  So we might as well just take a vote.”_

_“I think it should be anonymous,” Harry said.  “So I won’t know which of you assholes to hate.”_

_“I also think it should be unanimous,” Zayn said.  “Right?  All of us agree or it doesn’t happen.”_

_“In this case, yes.  But so help me if we have to have unanimous votes for every damn thing now I will lose my mind,” Niall said.  “We’d never have a decent meal.”_

_“Jesus christ with the eating, Niall.  I’ll hire you a personal assistant with the sole job of acquiring you food whenever you want it, if you’d just shut up,” Harry said._

_“Unanimous, anonymous.  Yes for freedom for Louis and Harry to do as they please.  No to keep the status quo.  Remember, just because we agree to this, either way, doesn’t mean it’ll happen, but we all need to be on the same page.”  Zayn passed out slips of paper and pens._

_Each of them folded their papers in half and set them in the center of the table.  Louis' hand trembled as he was the last to put his vote in the pile.  This was happening, and the thought absolutely terrified him._

_“I’ll read them,” Harry started, reaching out to pick up the small pile of votes._

_“I will,” Zayn said, grabbing the pile before Harry could.  Harry glanced nervously at Louis who was slumped in the corner of the sofa.  Harry grabbed his knee and leaned close to him._

_“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, while Louis tried to keep himself from shaking._

_“Yes,” Zayn read._

_Louis began bouncing his knee.  Harry’s heart began to race._

_“Yes,” Zayn said again._

_Louis could feel his palms getting clammy.  Harry’s eyes widened as he anticipated the next vote.  Surely it would be a no._

_“Yes,” Zayn said again._

_Louis felt like he couldn’t breathe.  Harry was panicking._

_“Yes.”_

_“Shit,” Harry couldn’t help from saying._ This was really happening _, Louis thought.  This was really going to happen._

_“No.”_

_Louis’ leg stopped shaking.  Harry couldn’t look up from where his hand was clasped tightly to Louis’ knee._

_All five of them stared at the floor.  All five of them quite shocked in their own ways.  None of them willing to look at each other._

_“It’s a no, then,” Zayn said, holding the discarded papers tightly in his fist._

_Harry stood first.  “Well then.  I think I’ll go.”  He walked quickly from the room, begging himself to hold it together for just a few moments more._

_Louis stood and went after him, quietly jogging down the hallway of the office building, not wanting to call attention to them by yelling after Harry.  He turned the corner and found Harry there, leaning against the wall, his face still shocked._

_“Four yesses,” Harry said to him.  “Four.  I’m absolutely fucking shocked.”_

_“It wasn’t me, Harry.  I swear it wasn’t,” Louis said to him.  “I’m so sorry, but it wasn’t me.”_

_Harry looked up at him.  “I know.”_

_“I know you’re saying that because you want to be understanding, but I wrote a yes on that piece of paper Harry.  I was scared shitless to do it, but I did it.”_

_“I know, Lou.  I know, because I’m the one who wrote no.”_

****

They moved through the agenda quickly, none of them having any objections to the general trajectory of the next year of their professional lives.  Harry barely participated, instead trying to end his racing thoughts.  There was really only one way out of this, regardless of what the actual outcome meant.  

“That leaves one more item, then,” Liam said.

“We don’t need to vote,” Harry said flatly.  

“Tommo wants a vote.”

“Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we,” Harry pushed, being careful not to look at Louis.  

“Nothing to get angry about, Harry,” Liam countered.  

“Isn’t there?  I am tired of owing my life to everyone else.  Our personal lives should be no one else’s business but our own.”

“It affects us all, though,” Zayn offered quietly.

“I don’t mean us.  I don’t mean the five of us.”  Harry felt on the verge of exploding.  

“Let’s just put it to a vote.”

“Let’s not.”

“Harry.”

“Liam.”  Harry took a deep breath, not sure what would happen when he said what he was about to say next.  “We don’t need a vote.”

They all looked at one another, and Harry noticed the glances his way, the glances toward Louis.  “Do we need a vote, Louis?  Will you change your vote from last time?”  

Louis didn’t look up at Harry but he had no intention of changing his vote, even if it wouldn't change anything now.  He needed freedom from this.  He needed freedom from the part of the entire thing that he was hiding behind.  It didn’t really matter now, did it?  Harry was quite happy, or at least pretending to be.  But he saw what Harry was about to do, and he felt a fierce need to protect him.  There was no telling how they others would react when they found out the truth that Harry had been the only one to vote against the very thing that he had forced.  

“Harry, you don’t need to do this,” he said.

“Will you change your vote?” Harry said, ignoring Louis’ warning.

“Come on,” Louis said, but when he saw the look on Harry’s face letting him know that Harry was determined to do this, he answered the question.  “No.”

“No.  Okay.  Any of the rest of you?  Do any of you want to change your votes?”  They all looked at Harry, each of them wondering what exactly he was getting at.  They all shook their heads no.  “Okay then.  Problem solved.”

Harry looked at them.  Louis was still staring at his hand, Niall was chewing a cracker with a perplexed look on his face.  Zayn’s eyes were trained on Harry, unsettlingly so.  And Liam.  Liam looked pissed.

“That’s it then,” Liam said?  “No one wants to change their vote?  And we’ll have to go through this whole mess again?  I know I am not the only one angry at whoever it was who voted no.  I mean, for god’s sake, the two of them have been through a special kind of hell, and we couldn’t even support them enough to have faith that they would, regardless of anything else, put us first?  And we couldn’t even do that for them?  And now we’re doing it again?”  Liam turned angrily to Niall and Zayn.  “Which one of you is it?”

“Liam, please calm down,” Louis said, barely a whisper.  

“I will not calm down!  Not until we get all of this on the table.”

“It wasn’t me,” Niall said openly, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Zayn?!”  Liam turned to him, appalled that it would be him who had done this.

“I think you’re missing the point, mate,” Zayn said, still looking at Harry.  Harry was bent over himself, his head in his hands, not speaking, not watching, not even moving.  

“What point?!”

“I didn’t vote no,” Zayn said quietly.  He looked up at Liam and nodded at Harry.  

“Louis?”  Liam suggested this as he looked at Louis.  “Is this why you wanted to bring it up again?”  

Louis shook his head slowly.  

“As I said,” Zayn said to Liam, “I think you’re missing the point.  Harry?  Maybe you’d like to clear this up for us,” Zayn suggested softly.  “It’s okay.”

Harry had heard every word of course, but he couldn’t bear facing all of them.  He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, damning himself for what he had done a year ago, damning Louis for bringing it up now.  

“Harry?” Liam said weakly, his anger deflated upon noticing how absolutely quiet and still Harry was being.

Harry looked up, but he only sought the gaze of one of them.  Still hunched over his knees he turned to face Louis.  “Why did you do this?” he whispered, afraid that his voice would break if he spoke any louder.  

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”  Niall said loudly.

“Niall,” Zayn said.  

“I brought it up months ago...before…,” Louis said.

Harry bit his lip and nodded slowly.  “I’ll change my vote,” he said quietly.  “So it’s done.  Five yesses.”

He didn’t want to look at them.  Their silence unnerved him.  He liked it better when Liam had been angry.  He wanted them all to be angry, to yell at him, to punish him for making this mess in the first place.  It had led to months of awkwardness between them all, that secret vote, wondering who had said no.  He wanted them to react in some way that made him feel less bad.  In some way that turned their pity into something different, something easier to face, easier to lash out against.  As it was, he could feel all of them looking at him, and all he could do was look at Louis.  

“Too little, too late, I suppose,” Harry said.  “But there you have it.”

“Fuck me,” Niall said into the absolute silence of the room.

Harry was still watching Louis when he saw the door open over his shoulder, Celeste standing there, her damp hair in braids, a tank top skimming her waist.  He sat up straighter then, remembering himself, and shifted his gaze to her face.  

“Hi boys,” she said, walking breezily into the room.  “I hope I’m not interrupting.  I just thought I’d head down to the pool for a bit.”

They all mumbled hellos, but were less than enthusiastic about it.  “You’ve been here this entire time?” Liam asked.  “Harry, you know that’s against the rules.”

“Oh god, Liam, is that what you want to be mad about?  That I broke the fucking rules?  She’s nothing to worry about.  And we didn’t even say anything incriminating did we?”

“Is everything okay?  Things seem a bit tense,” she said, pulling her bag over her shoulder and focusing her gaze on Harry.  “Are you alright?”.  

“Everything is just fine.”  Louis spoke before Harry could.  “You did, however, make the papers.”

“Did I?  Hopefully not for anything awful.”

“No, not awful, unless you find making out with Harry here awful.”

“Very funny, Louis,” she said.  “I thought Stuart managed to get a hold of those,” Celeste said.  

“As did I,” Harry mumbled.  

“Well, no big deal is it?”

“That remains to be seen,” Liam said.  “It’s always quite dramatic when one of us gets a girlfriend.  You might want to consider being a bit careful.”

“Really?  What’s going to happen?  Is some fan girl going to attack me or something?”  Celeste laughed at the idea, but the others remained quiet.  “Really?”

“You never know,” Zayn said.

“Harry’s not had a girlfriend,” Niall said.  “Who knows what will happen to you.”

“Harry’s never had a girlfriend?”  Celeste was obviously taken aback by this comment; Harry cringed.  Luckily, Zayn stepped in.  

“That’s not what he means,” Zayn said quickly, protectively, as he looked up at Celeste.  “But he’s not had a public relationship in a long time.  Even a whisper of a date stirs up all kinds of things.  The fact that there is evidence, and that you’ve been spotted here with us, well, you just might want to prepare yourself.”

“You should keep Stuart close,” Harry suggested.

“Do you really think Stuart is the best option, considering he let this happen in the first place?” Louis asked.  

“Stuart didn’t let anything happen,” Harry defended.  “I am an adult, and I do adult things, and I am the one who put us in that position.  Stuart did his best.”

“Maybe you should stop letting girls kiss you in alleys,” Louis shot back.  

“He didn’t let me do anything,” Celeste said.  “In fact, he asked for it.”

“Okay,” Harry said, wanting to diffuse the situation before it got any more awkward.  Celeste seemed to be enjoying the teasing, but Harry knew that Louis wasn’t joking.  

“Oh, he asked for it, did he,” Louis said, the sarcasm in his voice sounding playful to someone who didn’t know him well, but betraying his agitation to those that did.

“I don’t see how that matters,” Harry said.

“I’m just teasing, Harry.  Really.  Why is everyone so upset?”

“Oh, it’s all very complicated,” Liam told her.  “It does seem strange, though, that Stuart would tell you that he’d taken care of things when he hadn’t, doesn’t it Harry?”

Harry opened his mouth, but Celeste beat him to it.  “Well, perhaps he got the wrong guy?  Or, you know, technology these days, he had probably already passed them on to someone else.  I don’t think we should blame Stuart.”

“It’s their jobs to protect us, Celeste,” Louis told her.  “From everything, including ourselves,” he added, glancing at Harry.  “They’ve done quite well, to be fair, but this is a major slip up.”

Celeste shrugged, unbothered.  “I’m sure I can handle it.  It’s not Stuart’s fault.  Don’t blame him for our mistakes.”

“For Harry’s mistakes, you mean?”

“Are you calling me a mistake, Louis?”  She smiled as she said it, but Harry was beginning to sense that she was getting defensive.  

“Oh no,” Louis said.  “I’m sure Harry knows exactly what he is doing.  Don’t you, Harry?”  Harry didn’t move.  Louis nodded.  “Quite sure.”

“Maybe he doesn’t,” Celeste joked, looking at Harry.  “I think he has no clue what he’s gotten himself into.”  The others laughed, but something about the way she said it didn’t sound like a joke to Louis at all.  And though he couldn’t read her expression, it unsettled him just as the photos had.  

“Very funny,” Harry said, pretending to be wounded.

“Okay,” Zayn spoke up.  “Let’s let Celeste get on with her day.  Security really isn’t her concern.  Harry and Stuart can sort that out.”

“Yes, Celeste, ‘tis lovely to see you, but we’ve got a bit more work to do,” Liam said.  “And these meeting are confidential--I’m afraid you’ve already heard too much.”

“I haven’t heard a thing,” she promised.  “I swear.”  

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Louis thought it would be a relief.  That’s why he had told Liam that he wanted to vote again.  He hadn’t known then how things would go, and he hadn’t remembered that he had even brought it up until they were all in that room together.  He didn’t realize he would essentially be calling Harry out, that he was putting Harry on the spot and forcing him to reveal a secret that had been only theirs.  Louis had thought that if they no longer had to hide, if management was no longer a part of their closeting, if the band was no longer a shield for them, that things would be better.  If it was up to him and Harry, it would be better.  

It had been meant as a gift.  

Louis just hadn’t accounted for all of the things that had happened in between.  

And, as it turned out, it made things even worse.  For him, anyway.  

Because now, there was no excuse.  Now, there were no reasons for them to stay apart except their own.  Because now, Harry was making his own choice based on his own wishes.

Now, Harry was choosing someone else.

Harry wasn’t choosing someone else because he had to.  He wasn’t keeping away from Louis because he had to.  

He was keeping away from Louis because he wanted to.

Because he wanted to.

Too little, too late.  

_Too little, too late_ , Louis kept repeating to himself over and over again, the words haunting and taunting, stuck on a repetitive loop that he couldn’t turn off.   _Too little, too late._

It was all he could think.  

Too little.

Too late.

There hadn’t been any relief on Harry’s face when the truth had come out.  There hadn’t been any satisfied sigh, his shoulders hadn’t relaxed, his mouth hadn’t turned up in a contented grin.  There had been no embrace, not even a silly high five.  There had been no excited whispers in corridors, or love making in the first secluded room they could find, to celebrate their freedom.  

Too little.

Too late.

There had been no knowing glances, no looks of silent triumph, no worried words wondering at what they might do now, or how they might do it.  

There had been no late night conversations, foreheads pressed together atop a shared pillow, exhausted but happy, planning their future together.  

He knew it would never have been easy, no matter what they planned.

But he never thought it would be this hard, either.

He never thought Harry would actually choose someone else.

He had felt his heart open up in that moment that Harry had changed his vote.  He had been so afraid, but when the time actually came, it felt freeing, it felt as though he could make his own choices now, carve his own path, whatever that might look like.  But the way Harry had stiffened, the way he had looked at Louis as if he had betrayed him once again threatened that flicker of hope that Louis had felt, and the way that Harry had looked at Celeste, the way he had kissed her, stomped on it carelessly, and seeing the way he was looking at her now, well, it squashed his hope completely.

Louis walked into the hotel bar and his eyes immediately landed on Harry.  He was sat at the bar, his fingers resting lightly against a glass of clear liquid with a lime floating in it, probably a vodka soda.  His rings glinted in the dim light as he flexed his fingers, and his hair curled around his ear.  Louis could see himself in the mirror behind the bar, and he waited, hoping that Harry might notice his reflection, see him standing there.  Waiting.

But he didn’t notice.  Instead, he tossed his head back, laughing loudly enough that Louis could hear it across the room.  It was an honest and genuine sound, something that seemed so much more rare these days.  Louis smiled, and walked toward him, until he noticed that it was Celeste who was sitting there beside Harry;  she was the one who was making Harry happy in this moment, and he made to turn around.

“Whoa, where are you going?” Niall asked, suddenly appearing behind him.  

“I was just leaving.”

“Leaving?  Looks like you just got here,” Niall replied, edging closer.  “Go on, Harry and Celeste are over there.”  

“I didn’t see them,” Louis said.  “I just wanted a drink.”

“Well, bar’s that way, Louis.  Go on.”  Niall nudged him as he walked past, walking right up to Harry and Celeste, oblivious to the fact that he was interrupting their time together.  

“Hi guys!  Things going better today?”

“What’s that?”  Niall asked as he signaled for the bar tender.

“Things seemed a bit tense yesterday,” she clarified.  

“Is that what you’d call it,” Louis said, smirking.  “Mind if I drink this….?  Harold?” Louis said, taking Harry’s untouched drink and swallowing it completely without waiting for a response.  

“No?”  Harry answered as he glared at Louis.

“Harold,” Celeste repeated, turning to look at Harry.  “Is that your real name?”

“It is not.  It’s just what Louis calls me.”

“Why?”

“You’re quite the curious kitten, aren’t you?”  Louis accepted a beer from Niall and drank most of that, too.  

Celeste shrugged.  “You’re quite feisty yourself, Louis,” she said to him.

Harry let out a burst of laughter before clamping his lips together.  Louis raised his eyebrows at him.  “I’ve been called worse.”

“Do you have another meeting or something?” she asked, nodding toward Liam and Zayn who were walking through the bar.  

“No,”  Harry said.

“We just like to spend time together,” Niall said.  

“Something wrong with that?” Louis asked.  

“Oh my god, it’s like you guys are one person,” she said.  “This is getting weird.  I really took Harry for a loner.”

“Ha.  Harry a loner?” Liam said.

“Seemed that way when I met him.”

“Harry is anything but, love.  He’s always looking for someone to keep him company.”  Louis finished his drink in another gulp, ignoring the look that Harry gave him.  “Tends to get him in trouble.”

“Are you saying I’m trouble?”

“Are you?”  Louis kept the tone light under the guise of friendly banter, but Harry knew that he was purposely digging and it was making him uncomfortable.  

“Louis,” Harry started.

“Oh, no need to protect me, Harry,” she said.  “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of teasing, is there?”

“Perhaps you all should slow down on the drinks,” Liam suggested.  “We have an early start tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” Celeste asked.

“We’ve got to spend some time in the studio, work on a few songs.”

“Not that we have anything actually written,” Niall answered.  

“Do you all write, then?”

“Depends,” Niall shrugged.  “Louis and Liam usually come up with something, but they haven’t managed to pull through on that yet.”

“We have a few things,” Liam said.  

“I haven’t seen them.”

“Well, Niall, because I haven’t shown them to you yet.”

“Don’t you have email?”

“Nothing electronic,” Liam explained.  “Don’t want things getting into the wrong hands.”

“How retro,” Celeste said.  

“Though, it would be quicker.  These guys just leave everything locked up in their heads until the last moment.  Like, Louis and Harry, for instance,” Liam said.  “They hole up together for weeks, saying that they need time to write, that they have ideas, and what do they come up with?  Absolutely nothing.  Two whole weeks and nothing much to show for it.  What were you really doing?”

“Are you really asking that question, Liam?”  Niall smiled until he saw Harry looking at him, his face screwed up as if to say, ‘what the fuck?’  Niall cleared his throat and went back to sipping his beer.

“Not to mention the fact,” Liam continued, “Louis comes back to London and can barely form a sentence, much less a whole verse.  You’re slipping, lad, and I don’t like it.”

“What are you going on about, Liam?” Louis said, though he knew exactly.  He could have just let it drop, but he didn’t feel like it.  Whether it was the three drinks in quick succession, or the painkillers he had taken before coming, he didn’t know, but he felt like pushing.  

“You told me you would be working while you and Harry were in LA, remember?”

“Ah, yes.  I do.  I do remember telling you that.”

Liam cocked his head at him.  “And did you do any actual work?”

“A bit,” Louis said casually.  “A bit of work, wouldn’t you say, Harold?”  Louis’ eyes landed on Harry.  Celeste leaned into him, but he wasn’t touching her at all.  He looked stiff; his discomfort was obvious.  

Harry shrugged.  

“Ah, don’t be like that, da-Harry,” he said, almost slipping.  “How about a round of shots?  Thanks,” he said to the bartender, before continuing on.  “I’d say we had quite a breakthrough that last morning.”

“Where is it then?” Liam asked.  

Louis tapped this forefinger against his temple.  “Up here.  Stored for safe keeping.”

“Let’s have it then,” Liam said.  

“Oh!” Celeste said.  “Am I about to hear an exclusive?”

“You just might,” Louis said, watching the bartender set down the 6 shot glasses in a perfect row.  Louis reached for one first.  “Cheers!” He said, and swallowed it without waiting for the others, though the rest of them followed suit.  Except for Harry, whose glass remained untouched.  Louis nodded toward it.  “Drink up.”  

Harry didn’t.  

“Maybe Harry would like to share.”

“I don’t really remember it,” Harry mumbled, twisting the ring on his finger.  

“Now, that’s a fucking lie if I’ve ever heard one,” Louis said.  

Another shrug from Harry.  Celeste leaned closer, whispering something into his ear.  Louis couldn’t hear, but watched as Harry shook his head slightly.  

“It’s rude to tell secrets in front of your friends,” Louis teased.  

Harry laughed, bitterly.  

“Do ya have a song or not,” Niall asked, confused as the trajectory of the conversation had veered off onto a winding and weaving path.  

Louis picked up Harry’s shot with two fingers, and handed it to Harry.  “I think you’ll want this,” he said quietly.  Harry took it from him, but didn’t drink it.  

“He can’t burst into song here,” Zayn said, looking around him and nodding toward the group of people that was surrounding them.  

“I’ll whisper it,” Louis said.  

“You could just not,” Harry suggested.

“It’s called, Forever You and Me.” Louis ignored Harry.  He was going to do this.  He was going to force Harry out of whatever it was that he was doing, and he was going to remind him of what the truth really was, whether he liked it or not.  “Up tempo, almost like a ska beat, or reggae even.  Happy, is my point.  I haven’t quite worked that part out.”  He looked up at Harry, wishing he would just look up, meet his eye, remember.  “Anyway,” he said.  “Too little, too late,” he sang in barely a whisper, “that’s what they say.  So much, too early, baby, it’s--,”  his singing was interrupted by the loud sound of what was apparently Harry slamming his now empty glass onto the bar.  

“What’d you do that for?” Celeste said, taken aback at Harry’s disruption.

Harry ignored her.  “We’re going to be late,” he said, and, forgetting her, and the rest of them, he walked away.  

“Harry!” Louis called after him, following quickly in his wake.    

Before he made it to the door, Harry stopped and spun around.  “Fuck you for doing that,” he said through clenched teeth.  

“Harry.”  Louis was taken aback by the tone of Harry’s voice.  He had never spoken to him that way before, with so much anger and malice in his voice.  

“No.  Fuck you.  And fuck that song.  I never want to hear it again.”

 

****

 

_Louis was humming to himself, a tune Harry didn't recognize.  It wasn't unusual.  Louis was always working on something.  His process was different than Harry's, and Harry loved to watch the way Louis worked, the way way the words came to him, the way melodies trickled from his lips and fingertips.  He liked the way Louis would bring his eyebrows together, frowning slightly, when he couldn’t get it right, and they way his eyes would light up and his mouth would open slightly in surprise when he had it the way he wanted it._

_Harry stayed still, pretending to sleep just a while longer, knowing that their ride through the desert today would not be so happy as the one yesterday had been.  He wanted to stay here, nestled next to Louis forever, high from these weeks they had spent together.  He was still reveling in how elated Lou had been when he had had a proper tour of the house, Lou’s relaxed smile at being able to look out of the windows without worrying who might be lurking outside of the gates._

_Harry had to keep himself from sighing out loud at the memory of Louis’ face last night, gazing over Harry’s shoulder into the night as he had pressed Harry’s naked body into the coolness of the glass wall._

_Happy._

_Beautiful._

_Free._

_Harry bit his lip and thought that maybe this would be enough, that it was another step in the right direction.  His hopefulness had scared him for so long, but this time, he wasn’t going to let that happen.  This time, it felt like it had merit, like he wasn’t just wishing and hoping, that this is where he belonged, and that Louis belonged here too.  That this was their future, and it felt real away from the celebrity vibe of LA, away from the social circles of London, without the demands of a contract._

_Here, alone, in a house all their own, this was where everything was going to be okay._

_“What are you working on,” Harry asked him, snuggled up beside him, his ear pressed to Louis’ bare chest._

_“I thought you were asleep.”_

_“I’m not.”_

_“How long have you been awake, then,” Louis asked him.  He tousled Harry’s hair as Harry shifted so that his chin was resting on Louis’ chest._

_“Long enough.”_

_“Ah.”_

_“I like to watch you, when you don’t think anyone is looking.”_

_“Well, that sounds a bit creepy.”_

_Harry poked him in the ribs, eliciting a squirm and a giggle from Louis.  “I’m not creepy,” Harry said.  “I’m in love.”_

_“Perhaps the two aren’t so different,” Louis teased, earning another poke to the ribs._

_“I’m serious.  I like to listen to you work.”_

_Louis’ hand trailed along Harry’s back, his fingertips dancing ever so slightly over Harry’s skin, down and then back up again to nestle his fingers in Harry’s curls.  “I like to listen to you do other things,” Louis said, biting his lip as he gently bucked his hips against Harry._

_“Sing to me, first,” Harry said._

_“Oh, I don’t know.  It’s quite unfinished.  I only have a few lines.”_

_“Sing,” Harry whispered, his breathless demand warm against Louis’ chest._

_“Wouldn’t you rather--,” Louis started, trying to sit up._

_“Sing!” Harry said, more loudly this time, and pressed Louis back into the pillows.  Harry himself sat back on his heels.  “I won’t touch you again until you sing.”_

_“Very funny.”  Louis reached out to toward him, but Harry swatted his hand away._

_“The more you stall, the more difficult I will make it,” Harry said, letting the sheet fall away completely._

_“Jesus.  How do you expect me to sing when you’re sitting there like that?”_

_Harry narrowed his eyes and bit his lip._

_“Fuck,” Louis breathed, unable to concentrate on the words that had just moments ago been swirling through his head._

_Harry ran his hand through his fingers, the muscles in his abdomen flexing, and let his hair fall into his face._

_Louis had to close his eyes._

_“Closing your eyes is cheating.”_

_“If you think that I can think about anything but fucking you right now, then you have lost your damn mind entirely.”  Louis felt the bed vibrate with a silent giggle from Harry and tried not to think about Harry’s lips, smile, hips, thighs, dick, and the way that the early morning light flooded the room in this glass house that Harry had bought, free of shades and blinds and curtains to hide them.  He concentrated on the silence in the room and let the melody come back to him, and then the words._

_“Fingers tangled in the sheets_

_a house of windows but no one sees_

_mouth to mouth so we can breathe_

_but no one sees, no one sees_

_too little too late_

_that’s what they say_

_so much too early_

_baby it’s better this way_

_so much so soon_

_nothing lasts forever, except for me and you_

_forever me and you.”_

_Harry was staring at him when he opened his eyes.  “That’s all I have so far,” he said._

_“Sing it again.” Harry leaned forward, stretching out again, pressing his ear to Lou’s heart._

_“Fingers tangled in the sheets, a house of windows no one...no one,” Lou stumbled over the words as Harry pressed his lips to the skin stretched over his ribs._

_“Keep singing.”_

_“No one sees,” he sighed, picking up where he left off and trying to breathe evenly as Harry slowly branded his torso with his lips, “mouth to mouth...we-we can breathe,” trying to sing but failing once again, stopping completely as Harry pressed his mouth in the hollow of his hip, unable to stifle a moan._

_“Sing,” Harry whispered, his warm breath teasing Louis’ thigh._

_“Jesus, I can’t,” Louis said, noticing that he was gripping the sheets on either side of him, staring down his own body to where Harry sat between his legs._

_“Close your eyes and sing,” Harry demanded again.  “Relax,” he said, gripping Louis’ thighs.  “Don’t look at me; sing to me.”_

_It took every bit of concentration that Louis had, but he did it, leaning back and relaxing as best he could, though he wanted nothing more than to watch Harry.  He closed his eyes, letting the racing rhythm of his own heart keep the beat._

_“Too little, too late…,” he sang breathlessly as Harry trailed his fingers up his thighs._

_“Sing.”  Harry’s voice was husky now, rough and aroused._

_“That’s what they say.”  Harry’s hands gripping his hips.  “So much...too early.  Harry....  It’s better this way.  Fuck.” Harry’s tongue searching, his hands holding him in place._

_“Sing,” Harry said, less forcefully this time, his attention taken by other things._

_“So much, so soon.  Nothing lasts f--for--forever.” Harry’s mouth enveloping him.  “Except for me and you.” Lips encircling him.  “Forever...me...and you…, forever me and you….”_

_Louis repeated his words again, each phrase getting more difficult to utter as Harry made it harder and harder with each tug of his lips, flick of his tongue, until he made it impossible for Louis to do anything but exist and revel in this experience that Harry had created for him, that they had designed together._

_Among the scattered pillows and tangled sheets, happy and satisfied in warm pools of sunlight, the unfinished words of a simple song drifting into the space around them, abandoned for now but, after this, Louis thought, never forgotten._

 

****

 

“Where’s Louis,” Liam asked as they took their places behind the stage.  The rest of them looked around, but shrugged in answer.  “Harry?”  

“How should I know?”  

Liam cocked his head and stared intently at him.  “We go on in three minutes.”

“He’s not coming,” Zayn said.

“What do you mean he’s not coming?”

“I mean, he isn’t coming.  He’s under the weather,” Zayn said, raising his voice over the sound of the intro music.

“Motherfucker,” Niall said.

“A little warning would be nice.  He was fine an hour ago.”

“Well he’s not now,” Zayn said.  

Harry thought Zayn purposely directed that comment to him, and it worried him.  He wanted to leave, but there was no way they could carry the show with just three.  

Harry stepped out into the glare of the lights, forgetting to sing the intro to the song until Liam shoved a finger into his back.  

Harry went through the motions, but he felt completely adrift without Louis’ presence to silently guide him.  No matter the choreography, it was always Louis who was his compass.  Without him there, Harry felt sloppy and lost.  

Paying no heed to where he was supposed to be, he walked across the stage, purposely bumping into Zayn, and wrapped his arm around his neck before he could escape.

“What’s wrong with him,” Harry asked, trying to keep his back toward the crowd to keep the cameras off his face.  

“I’m sure you could figure it out,” Zayn answered, with a pointed look on his face.  

“Is he okay?”

Zayn shrugged quickly before he had to sing, raising his eyebrows as he moved away.  

Harry was on the verge of running of the stage himself, knowing he had been cruel; even if he had meant it, even if Louis had been trying to provoke him, he shouldn’t have been so fucking mean.  

Harry performed another song, then shot off stage to find Celeste.  “I need you to go check on Louis.”

“Where is he?” she asked.  

“I don’t know.  The hotel probably?  Ask Stuart.  He’ll be able to find out.”  

“Is everything okay?”  

“I don’t know.  He didn’t show up for the show.  And you saw him earlier.  He had a lot to drink.”

“Surely he doesn’t need to be babysat because he’s had a bit too much to drink.”

“It’s not just that.  It’s-.” Harry shook his head, not knowing how to explain.  

“It’s what,” she said gently, putting her hand on his arm.  

“It’s complicated.  But this is unlike him, to not show up.  And I don’t think he should be alone.  I’d go, but I cant,” he said, waving toward the stage.

“Are you sure he’d want me showing up?  Maybe he’d prefer you?”

“What do you mean,” Harry said defensively.

“He barely knows me, Harry, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I’d do it if I could, but I can’t leave in the middle of a show.  Would you please do this for me?”

“Sure.  Of course,” she said, kissing him quickly before he had to go.  

 

Harry burst into the room, breathless from running up the stairs, too impatient to take the elevator.  He hadn’t heard from Celeste though he had checked his phone obsessively throughout the show.  He had expected a scene, some sign of something gone horribly wrong, but there was nothing.  The room was spotless and quiet; serene even.  Celeste was curled up in a chair by the window, breathing softly in her sleep.  There was a blanket pooled at her feet, having slipped from her lap as she slept.  He hardly gave her a thought as he walked by her and into the adjoining bedroom, anxious to see for himself that Louis was alright.  He stood in the doorway for a moment, relieved to see that Louis was in one piece at least.  He walked around the bed and knelt down on the floor, his own heart slowing its rapid pace now that he could see that Louis was sleeping peacefully.  He brushed the hair from Louis’ face, and then stood again to pull the coverlet over Louis’ shoulders.

“Can you call someone to stay with him?”  Harry jumped at Celeste’s voice breaking the silence in the room.  He felt like she had caught him doing something wrong.  Maybe she had.

“I’ll stay,” Harry said to her, watching as she picked up her bag, expecting that he would go back to their room with her.  

“I’m leaving in the morning,” she said.  “Early.”  It was a request for him to leave Louis and come back with her, spend their last few hours together, but Harry just couldn’t do it.

“I know.  I’m sorry that your last night had to be this way, but I need to stay with him.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding, not questioning it, out loud, at least.  He briefly wondered if she thought it might be odd, but at this point, he was too worried to care what she thought.  

He followed her out of the bedroom and to the door where she turned toward him.  “He was quite upset when I got here,” she said quietly.  “He had had a lot to drink.  I also found his pills.”

“Pills?”

“Pain pills.  For his hand, I guess.  I don’t think he’s eaten much today, and the drinks on top of the meds just did him in.”

“What was he upset about, did he say?”  It was a risky thing to ask, but Harry didn’t really care.  

“He was mostly upset about missing the performance.  He kept saying he was sorry for letting you down, that everything was his fault….  Most of it was pretty nonsensical.  Who is Eleanor?”

“Eleanor is his girlfriend.”

“Oh.   I didn’t realize he had a girlfriend.  That makes more sense, then.  Are you sure you won’t come back with me?”  She picked up the blanket from the floor and folded it.

“What makes more sense?”

“Do you know Max?”

_Max._ “No,” Harry lied.  

She shook her head.  “I don’t know, Harry.  From the sound of it, Louis seems quite heartbroken.  Maybe something happened with Max and Eleanor?  He kept saying ‘Eleanor knows that I know that she knows about him.’  Over and over he kept saying it.  I couldn’t figure it out, because it makes no sense.  I finally gave up trying.  I’m sure he was just plastered and had no clue what he was saying.  He was probably getting his words mixed up.”

It made perfect sense.   

“You look exhausted,” she said, reaching up to touch his face in a tender way that was not often her style.  

“What else did he say?”

“Other than that, he mostly scowled at me.  And then he told me that people with so many secrets shouldn’t buy glass houses.  Whatever that means.”

Harry felt sick.  

“I should go,” she said.  “I need to finish packing, and I have to be up early.”  She lifted her face to his, waiting, expecting a goodbye kiss, he realized.  He obliged, letting his hands wrap around her waist, pulling her close. “Thank you,” he whispered.  

“Let me know how he is.”

“Call when you land,” he said, kissing her lightly as he opened the door behind her, impatient for her to leave.  

“See ya, Styles.”

He waited for the door to click before he walked back toward the bedroom, leaning against the door jamb, watching Louis who was curled up in the middle of the bed.  He looked small in the big bed, dwarfed by his sweatpants and t-shirt.  He wanted to go to him, but he had something to do first.

He picked up his phone, scrolling through the never ending list of people to find a number he had never called before, and brought it to his ear, listening to the jarring rings in the silence of the hotel room.  

“Hello?”

“Eleanor?”

“Yes?  Harry?  Is that you?”

“It is, yes.  I’m sorry to call you so late.”

“Is something the matter?  What’s wrong?”

“Lou...he’s okay, but he needs you.”

“Needs me?  He can call me himself you know,” she said, her worry turning to something different, something resentful.

“Please.  You need to come,” Harry said quietly.  “He needs you.  I….”

“You what?”  

The words stuck in his throat, _I need you_ , but he couldn’t say them out loud.  “Nothing,” he said.  “He won’t ask you himself, but he needs you here, okay?  Please?”

She sighed heavily on the other end of the call.  “Okay, Harry, I’ll come.  Of course I’ll come.  I’ll take the first flight out.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, but she had already hung up.

He set his phone down and walked back to the room where Louis was.  He was tired--from the show, from worrying, from trying so hard to keep up this front.  

He walked into the room, sat down on the chair, and pulled off his boots.  His feet ached, and he was still wearing his stage clothes.  He looked around for something to change into; he could have called Stuart, or even Celeste, but he just wanted them to be alone, so he scanned Louis’ messy room for something that he could wear, and finally pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from a pile that might have been clean. He didn’t care if it wasn’t.  He pulled them on and he climbed into the bed behind Louis, careful not to wake him.  He wrapped himself around Louis’ curled up body, sliding one arm under Louis’ head, and the other around his chest.  He wondered if he would ever stop feeling this way, if Louis would ever not make him ache this way, if anyone else ever would.

“Harry,” he said weakly.

“I thought you were asleep,” Harry said against his back, not pulling away, not moving.  

Louis clasped his hand around Harry’s.  “I’m surprised you came.”

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s become quite a habit of ours, hasn’t?  To do things we don’t mean to do?”

“Speaking of….” Louis shifted, trying to turn toward Harry.

“Don’t, Lou,” Harry said, using his vantage point to keep Louis in place.  He couldn’t look at him, couldn’t lay there, face to face with him, without doing another thing neither of them would mean to do.

Louis didn’t have the energy to resist, nor did he have the faculties for a fight, so he sank back to his place, back pressed against Harry’s stomach.  It wasn’t his usual spot but he liked it.  He felt safe.  Protected.  “This feels nice, Harry,” he said.

Harry agreed but he didn’t say so.  “I called Eleanor.  She’ll be here tomorrow.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> And thanks to Dio8199 for her help, as always!


	12. Chapter 12

“What are you doing?”

Harry didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Eleanor had just arrived.  “Meditating.”  He took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly as he heard her walk into the room and set down her bag.  

“You might want to open your eyes, Harry,” she said, as he heard her tossing a stack of papers on the table.  “You guys are getting torn apart right now.”

He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that, either.

Deep breath in, slow breath out.  

He opened his eyes as she walked into the bedroom, and stood to leave, his part here being done, but before he could make his exit, she came back out again.  “You stayed here last night?”

His eyes shot to the sofa, trying to come up with an answer.

“Don’t act like you slept out here, Harry.  Next time fluff the pillow if you don’t want to be caught.”

“Nothing happened,” he said, chagrined.

“Something happened,” she insisted.  

“I mean it.”

“I really don’t need to discuss your sleeping arrangements.  But I would like to know what happened.  Louis doesn’t drink so much that he can’t perform.  In fact, I don’t think he’s ever missed a show, has he?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“So, why now?”

“It’s complicated.”

“What isn’t?”

Harry sighed, knowing that some sort of explanation was due.  “He took his pills on an empty stomach, then he had a couple of drinks, and it was just a bad combination.”

“His pills?”  Eleanor looked genuinely confused.

“For his hand.”

“What’s wrong with his hand.”

“Jesus,” Harry muttered.  “I can’t do this.”

“Join the club.  Do you think I want to be having this conversation with you?  Can you just explain the pills, please?”

“He hurt his hand and--”

“How did he do that?”

“It doesn’t matter.  He hurt his hand and they prescribed some pain pills.  It was just a bad combination, but he’s sleeping it off and he should be fine.”

“It’s as simple as that?  Then why did you feel the need to call me last night and scare me half to death?”

She had a point.  He couldn’t exactly say to her that he was afraid that, with everything happening, and with Celeste gone, that he needed her there as a buffer, as a reminder that Louis was now off-limits.  “There’s a lot going on,” he told her.  “I thought he could use some support.  It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I’m regretting it now,” he told her.  “Celeste said he sounded upset.”

“Who is Celeste.”

“My girlfriend?”

“Your what?  Why do I have no clue what is going on right now?”

“Maybe you should ask Louis that question.”  

“I’m asking you.”

“Look, I’m out of this.”

“You are the one who called me, Harry.  Did you think I wouldn’t come in here and ask you questions after that phone call last night?  Am I supposed to be happy that you slept here last night, Louis so distraught as to warrant middle-of-the-night phone calls to me?  Since when do you call me to come take care of him anyway?”

“Since he chose you,” Harry said pointedly, completely done with the conversation.   

Her mouth dropped open.  “What?”  

“I’m really fucking sick of all of these conversations I keep having to have.  I don’t understand why, when you’ve gotten what you want, you are acting so put out by coming here.  It’s fucking confusing and ridiculous.”

“Harry, I--I didn’t know.”  Harry had noticed how Eleanor’s stoic demeanor had been crumpling incrementally with each statement he had made, but at that one, any shred of it that was left fell away.  And while, maybe, in other circumstances it might have made her happy, it was obvious that something had gone horribly wrong.  

“What’s going on,” Louis said hoarsely from the doorway of the bedroom.  Both Harry and Eleanor turned to face him.  “El, what are you doing here?”

“I told you I called her,” Harry answered.

Louis rubbed his face with both of his hands.  “I don’t remember, I guess.  Ow.”  Louis pulled his hand away from his face and flexed his fingers with a grimace.  The bruised and torn flesh made Harry’s heart ache.

“What did you do to your hand,” Eleanor asked, finally getting up and going to him.  

“I’m leaving now,” Harry said, anxious to get out of this awkwardness.

“So soon?”  Louis asked.  

“I’ve been here all fucking night,” Harry answered, pissed that Louis didn’t remember.  Or, more likely, that he was pretending to forget.  

“Can we talk?” Louis asked him.  

“No.  We can’t, Louis.  I thought I made that clear….”  Harry trailed off, remembering Eleanor was there.  “Besides, it seems to me that Eleanor needs to be brought up to speed on a few things, so I’ll leave you to it.”

 

Louis had been awake for a long time.  He had lain awake in Harry’s arms for hours, pretending to be asleep, thankful for a brief period of time where he could just enjoy being with him, feeling him, without it being rushed or wrong, without having to have another talk that would go no where, without having to offer or listen to wasted explanations of a thing that they could no longer contain.

It had been hard, but he stayed still as the subtle vibrations of Harry’s sorrow wrapped around his body, and had felt the tears as they had trickled onto his neck.  He had been the cause, of that he was certain, and he took having to endure Harry’s pain, without feeling the relief of being able to comfort him, as his punishment.

It had been a long night, and Louis had spent most of it thinking.  

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke as Harry extricated himself and stared out of the window while he listened to Harry shower.  

He wanted to talk, but he was afraid that it would end like every other one of their conversations.  He knew that he had to make some changes, that he had to make some choices, had to prove, by his actions, that he was choosing Harry.  

He had listened to Harry’s quiet meditations.

He had heard Eleanor come in, and he had heard their conversation, brief as it was.  

To hear the two of them talk about him, it felt weird, and it felt important at the same time.  

And the way it felt to hear Harry say those words to her “he chose you,” well, it ached in a way that nothing had ever ached before, and it pulled everything into sharp focus.  If he had been sure of it the night before, laying silently in Harry’s arm, he was determined now.

And so, as he looked at Eleanor, in the light of day, sitting in his room where he didn’t want her to be, he knew what he was going to do.

“We haven’t talked in days,” Eleanor started.  Louis turned his back to her and bent over a teacup on the counter.

“I’ve been busy,” he said, though not convincingly so.

“You’ve had plenty of time to destroy your hand, to get wasted….”

“Can we not argue.”

“I’d be happy to just talk,” she said, “but you don’t seem inclined toward that.”

Louis groaned.  His head was killing him.  Though he had thought he was lucid at the time, the night was suddenly coming back to him in fragmented pieces, each moment more cringe-worthy than the last.  It was as though he was living the previous night in reverse, the feel of Harry’s arms around him slipping away and being replaced by angry rants at a woman he barely knew; stumbling through hotel hallways and a team of security pulling him out of a half empty bar; being surrounded by people he didn’t know; being smothered by his friends who suddenly felt like strangers.

Walking away from Harry, who had stormed out angrily.

A song Harry never wanted to hear again....

Harry’s ‘fuck you’ pounded against Louis’ skull, making his stomach twist into knots that might never undo themselves.

“When were you going to tell me about Harry’s girlfriend?”

“I wasn’t.”

“What?”

“It seemed insignificant.”

“It seems pretty significant, Louis.”

Louis turned to face her slowly, willing the churning in his stomach to settle, and looked at her as if he hadn’t seen her in months.  Really, he hadn’t.  And for her part, she looked completely disinterested in anything that was going on.  “It’s not like you’ve reached out to me,” he said to her, knowing full well that he hadn’t given her much in the way of avenues to do so.  “It’s not like you’ve been trying to call me, nor have you been bothered to perhaps accompany me on tour.”

“I was giving you some space.”

“Space?!  Since when do you give me space.”

She sat back abruptly, surprised at his minor outburst.  “That’s hardly fair,” she told him.  “You seemed quite out of sorts at home.  Forcing us to stay in my cramped flat while your house sits empty and abandoned, running off for meetings every time I so much as look at you.  You hardly even kissed me goodbye.  You haven’t exactly called, or invited me on tour, have you?  And then I’m getting calls in the middle of the night from your friend who barely tolerates me, begging me to fly halfway around the world to be at your side.  I have never smothered you.  I have always tried to be exactly what you wanted me to be, what you needed me to be, so don’t start accusing me of not caring.”

“Ha!  Or is it that you care too much?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know full well what it means.  I know what you did.  I know….”

“You know what, Louis?  You sound absolutely ridiculous right now.”

“Do I?   Funny that I’m the ridiculous one when you are running around, getting in people’s heads, acting like you know what’s best for me, when you hardly know me at all.”

“I know you better than you think,” she said sharply.

“Is that what you tell yourself?  Is that why you feel as though you have any right to meddle in my personal business?  You had no right to go behind my back and get into Harry’s head and force him to deliver a ridiculous ultimatum to me.”  Louis stopped abruptly, realizing what he had just said.  His heart was racing.  He hadn’t meant to bring Harry into this at all.  “Fuck.  Me.”

“Well then.” she said.  

“I didn’t mean---”

“Might as well get it out there, if we’re going to do this.”

“I can’t.”

“Well, I can, and I’m going to.”

“El, don’t,” he begged, hating the sound of his voice.  “Don’t bring him into this.”

“You’re the one who did that!”

“No.”

“Oh.  Right,” she said, her gestures becoming more animated.  “YOU are the one who brought ME into this.  I had forgotten.  Because you like having me as a cover for you.  You’d rather abandon me in hotel rooms while you go check on your boyfriend and leave me at home to wonder what you are doing while you take romantic vacations with Harry.  Do you think I’m that stupid?  Because really, that’s the thing that hurts the most.  That you think I’m so dumb and naive to not know exactly what was going on.  Are you so blind that you had no clue that I knew all along?  That I chose to be this person for you?”

“I don’t know,” he said weakly.

“And don’t make me out to be the bad guy here.  I told Harry, and I’ll tell you, too, that none of us are villains.  I don’t fault you for being who you are, Louis.  I don’t fault him either.”

“So you aren’t denying that you spoke to him?  And forced him to make a decision?”

“I am not denying that I spoke to him.  But I didn’t make him do a single thing.”

Louis was surprised at the relief he felt in having this discussed openly, but that didn’t lessen his rising anger at her, at himself, at Harry.  At the entire situation.  

“That’s not the way it seems.”

“I didn’t ask him to make you choose.  I asked him to walk away, to let you go.”

“How’s that any better?”

“Let’s get something straight:  Harry came to me.  Harry, freshly fucked and wearing your shirt, tracked me down.  I did not go after him.”  She paused, letting that image sink into Louis’ head before she continued.  “I didn’t force this on him.  But I didn’t lie to him.  There are enough lies between the three of us, and I had had enough of it.  That was a horrible week for me.  I knew that something had changed the minute the two of you showed up on that goddamned motorcycle.  And you took every opportunity you could to get away from me for your middle of the night ‘meetings.’  You were slipping, Louis, badly.  And honestly, I was ready for it to end.  I assumed it would, and I was shocked when you came back to London and Harry was noticeably absent.  But you can’t fault me for fighting for you, Louis, because despite everything, I’ve invested my heart in you and it isn’t something I wanted to just give up on.  Three years ago, after that god-awful party, I resolved to be whatever you needed me to be, and I wanted to do that for you.  It’s just, eventually, I started to realize how much I was giving up, and having it thrown in my face, well....  It made me angry.    I started to think I was the butt of some horrible joke, and the two of you were playing me for a fool, but when I saw the look on Harry’s face, when I talked to him, I realized that that wasn’t the case.  And I thought, maybe, if he saw how much I loved you, that I was willing to fight for you, that he would let you go.  And I thought that if he let you go, then you’d happily come with me.”

Louis didn’t know what to think about what she was saying.  They had never talked about this before, and it felt weird and out of place.  

“So the two of you think you know what’s best for me?  Better than I do?”

“Maybe we’re all just realizing what is best for ourselves, Louis.  Did you ever think of that?  Maybe you’re realizing some things, the way I am.  The way Harry has.”

“Realizing some things?”

“Yes.  Aren’t you?”

He was, though he felt loathe to admit it to her.  “I don’t understand what you want from me.”

“I want some fucking honestly, Louis,” she sighed, exasperated.  “That’s what I want.”

“You want honesty?  Is that what you really want?”  Louis felt himself tightening up and relaxing all at once, as if this was the moment he had been waiting for without realizing it.  “Here’s your fucked up honesty: I chose you.  I chose you and I let Harry walk away from me.  And honestly, it was the worst decision I have ever made.”

 ****

_The room was dark and the cool air conditioning was blowing onto Louis’ back, raising goosebumps on his skin._

_“Lou,” Harry murmured.  “You really need to go,” he said sleepily._

_“Just a little while longer.” Louis reached lower to take hold of Harry, coaxing him out of his sleepiness into instantaneous arousal.  Louis pressed his lips to Harry’s ear, and Harry whimpered, feeling Louis press against him, his hips matching the rhythmic strokes of his fist._

_“We don’t have time,” Harry said._

_“We do.”_

_“Louis,” Harry moaned._

_“Don’t worry, darling,” Louis whispered against his skin, pressing his lips to Harry’s warm back._

_Harry had been stewing for weeks.  He had been going through the motions, smiling at interviewers, waving to fans, performing on stage.  But it was all lackluster.  Perhaps no one else noticed, but Louis did.  It was obvious to him in the way Harry moved, the way he lacked enthusiasm on stage and how he skulked from one place to the next.  It pulled at Louis and unnerved him, but he was afraid to ask the question.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer._

_Louis edged away so that he could press Harry flat to the bed.  He wanted to watch his face, the way Harry bit his lip as he moaned softly, the way his eyelids fluttered open and closed again, the way the ridges of his muscles rippled beneath his skin as Louis touched him.  It was dark in the room, a single ribbon of sunlight peeking through the curtains and falling across Harry’s stomach, but it was enough to see.  He stretched alongside Harry, clasping Harry’s hands in his and pressing them into the pillow above their heads, and draped one leg across Harry’s, holding him in place.  He pressed his lips to Harry’s, gently, tracing the fullness with his tongue.  His hands occupied, he traced a pattern of fluttery, faint kisses down Harry’s neck, to his chest and back again.  He was in tune to every tiny movement of Harry’s body, and knowingly, brought his lips back to Harry’s in time to catch the last breathless “Louis,” that escaped from Harry’s mouth in his, holding him as his body tensed and he shuddered against him.  Louis, feeling complete, smiled against Harry’s neck._

 

_“So what is it?”  Louis said, sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed, and nibbling on a biscuit._

_“Nothing,” Harry said sullenly.  The flush of his arousal had dissipated and he looked tired and pale, though he had just returned from the shower._

_“Come on, Harry, talk to me.  This won’t work if you don’t talk to me.”_

_“It doesn’t work even if I do talk to you,” he shot back, walking out of the room.  Louis watched him go, but didn’t press the issue._

_Harry walked back with a pile of Louis’ things and tossed them on the bed.  “You should go.”_

_“Kicking me out?  After that?”  Louis teased lightly._

_Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, groaning as he bent over his knees.  Louis watched tiny rivulets of water drip down his back like tears and felt bereft, though he didn’t quite understand why.  “I don’t want to argue,” Harry said stiffly._

_“But?”_

_“There’s no but.  I don’t want to argue.  Period.  The end.”_

_“So you’re just kicking me out.”_

_“Basically, yes.”_

_“For my own good.”_

_“Please just go.”_

_“Not until you talk to me.  You’ve not been yourself lately.  I can see it, I can feel it.”_

_“Max will be here any minute,” Harry finally said.  “I don’t want you to be here when he shows up.”_

_The admission took Louis by surprise.  He hadn’t expected that, and he sat there, feeling like an idiot, with his mouth hanging open.  “Max?”  Louis managed to say._

_“Yes,” Harry sighed.  “Max.”_

_“But I thought….”_

_“It doesn’t matter what you thought or assumed.  Max is on his way.  You need to go.”_

_“How can you just sit there, after that, after what we just did, and so casually dismiss me, Harry?  Is this some sort of joke?”_

_“So am I supposed to thank you for getting me off?  Is that what you want?  Thank you for fucking me?”_

_“Jesus, Harry.  Don’t be so vulgar.”_

_“Don’t be so obtuse.”_

_“Oh, we’re using our dictionary words now, are we?  Here are some dictionary words for you,” Louis said.  “Fuck off.”_

_Harry’s shoulders slumped, and he hung his head.  “I don’t want to do this,” he said softly.  “I am asking you to go.  Please.  Please, give me a few minutes to gather myself.  I need to be alone.”_

_“I just don’t understand,” Louis said, Harry’s dismal tone banishing the anger as quickly as it had come._

_“I don’t know how to explain it to you without upsetting you.  I don’t know how it is that you can be my best friend, but we’ve got to this point where I can’t talk to you, when I need to talk to you so badly.”_

_“Talk to me then,” Louis urged.  “Forget the rest of it, and talk to me.”_

_“Louis,” he started, his leg shaking nervously.  He wondered how Louis felt.  He didn’t want to tell this to him, didn’t want to hurt him any more than he had.  But he had no one else to speak with, no one else in whom he wanted to confide, and in some way, he needed Louis to understand.  It was so convoluted, fake relationships and real ones, loving and hating and cheating and fighting._

_“I need a friend,” he said to Louis.  “I need you to hear this, and I need to talk to you about it.  And it isn’t about you and me or this mess we’ve made right now.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“Max and I planned this visit a while ago.  I missed him.  He makes me happy.”  Harry thought about how that would sound to Louis, and he couldn’t bear the thought of facing him right now, so he kept his back turned.  “It has nothing to do with you, I want you to understand that,” he said softly.  “This isn’t about us.  It is about me and him.  I love him, Louis.”  Harry listened to Louis empty his lungs, imagined the way his heart might have stopped beating.  He wondered if Louis’ stomach was knotted in the same way his was right now.    Harry took a deep breath.  “I know you don’t want to hear this,” he said, turning to look over his shoulder at Louis._

_Their eyes met, and Harry could see the stoniness that settled in the blue eyes locked on his.  Louis’ jaw was clamped shut, and Harry could see how hard he was struggling to remain indifferent though it was obvious he was anything but._

_“Is this why?  Why you voted against us?”_

_“No,” Harry sighed, shaking his head.  That was more complicated; he had not made that decision because of Max.  But he had made his next decision because of that vote, because of Louis.  “The vote had nothing to do with Max, but this has everything to do with that vote.”_

_“I’m sorry but I’m not understanding.”_

_“I’m breaking up with him,” Harry said flatly._

_It shocked Louis.  More than the part about Harry loving Max, the fact that he intended to break up with him took Louis by surprise.  His own reaction to it surprised him even further and he was left speechless as he looked at Harry looking back at him.  He knew he should be happy, but he was not.  He was gutted.  It was too complicated to parse out his feelings.  It was shocking to hear that Harry loved someone else, yet the fact that Harry would, in the same span of minutes say that he was giving that up, was a lot to process.  He was torn between feeling heartbroken and happy for himself, and wanting to comfort Harry over his heartbreak that had nothing to do with himself.  He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing._

_Harry sighed at his silence before he went on.  “I really like him.  It felt so much easier to be with him, Louis.  We didn’t have so much to worry about.  I know it hurt you, and I know it wasn’t part of the plan, and I know that I shouldn’t have put myself in the position.  I didn’t mean to.  It just happened.  I went about it all wrong, and I know that, and I hope you’ll forgive me for it one day, for loving someone else.  But it has nothing to do with you Louis.  It was meant to be an outlet, like we agreed upon, but I went and screwed that up.”_

_Louis said nothing._

_“I don’t know how to navigate this, and I hope you’ll forgive me for that, too.  I am sorry.  But I’m going to end it today.  He thinks he’s coming for a fantastic holiday, and I’m about to dump him.  Lou,” he started, then stopped again._

_Louis was frozen.  “I don’t know what to say, Harry,” he said._

_“I’m not saying this to hurt you, Louis.  I’m telling you so you’ll understand.  I don’t want it to be this way.  I can’t love him and love you.  I can’t call him on the phone and talk for an hour and then spend the night with you.  I don’t want to.  I want it to be you.  I want you to be all of those things.  And I realized, when you wrote yes on that piece of paper, that if you were willing to do that for me, then I would do this for you.”_

_Louis still said nothing.  Harry didn’t blame him._

_“I’m sorry,” Harry said again.  “I know that wasn’t all so easy to hear.  It wasn’t easy to say.  It’s not going to be easy to do.  But I'm going to do it, Louis, and I’m going to chose you.”_

_Louis still said nothing, but Harry felt the bed shift, and then the press of Louis’ lips between his shoulder blades.  He hoped that it meant what it felt like, that Louis understood, that Louis would forgive him, that this would all be worth it in the end._

  
****

“Do I get some sort of explanation?”  Harry sat down next to Liam, his bowl of oatmeal congealed into an unappetizing lump, and reached for a banana from the bowl of fruit on the table.  The room was empty, but for the two of them.  Harry was later for breakfast than usual, but still earlier than most, and he hadn’t really expected to have to talk to anyone.  

“I could ask you the same question,” Harry replied.

“For what do I owe you any explanation?”

“For being here right now.  I thought I’d be able to eat in peace.”

Liam chuckled.  “Since when do any of us have any peace, Harry?”

Harry didn’t answer the question, and instead took a bite of the banana, hoping that if he was quiet Liam would leave him alone.

“Why’d you do it?”  

“Do what?”  Harry was exhausted.  He hadn’t weathered the night well, and he had gone straight from Louis’ room to an intense workout that left him dry-heaving in the bathroom.  He should have gone back to his room, but he couldn’t stand the thought of that.   He hadn’t been alone in weeks; solitude rarely brought him any peace, and the silence was not something he was looking forward to.  Too much time to think.  Too much time to wallow in his regrets and to analyze all of the wrong moves he had made.  

“Vote against your own motion.”

“So you aren’t going to let me eat in peace.”

“No.  I’m not.”

“Then I’m leaving.”  He pushed up from the table, but Liam clasped a strong hand around his wrist.  

“Sit, please, and talk to me.”

Harry sighed, sinking back down into his chair.  “It’s complicated.”

“Is it?”

 _Was it_ , Harry thought.  Not really, when it came down to it.  It felt complicated when he took into account all of the things they had been through.  But it in the end, it was pretty simple: “I was afraid of what it would do to us.”

“To us, the five of us?”

“No,” Harry answered honestly.  “Not really.  I knew that we would figure it out and make it work.”

“To you and Louis, then?”  

“Yes.  By the looks of things, I was right, too.”

“I don’t understand.  He voted yes.  Both times.”

“I know.” Harry said.  

“You thought he’d vote against it?  Is that why?”

“No.  I was fairly certain he’d go through with it the first time, even though he was scared.  But I was afraid that it would go badly if anyone voted against us.  Afraid that it would make Louis second guess his choice.”

“That makes no sense, Harry.”

“I am well aware of that fact,” Harry snapped.  “I’m not claiming any of it made sense, Liam.  I was impulsive, and I was afraid.  Will you, any of you, ever forgive me?  It wasn’t malicious.”

“I think we just want to understand.”

“Join the club.”

“The Louis and Harry club is pretty exclusive, it seems,” Liam joked.  Harry appreciated that he was trying to lighten the mood, but he didn’t find it funny.

“Look.  I realized, that day, when I looked at Lou, really looked at him...that he wasn’t ready.  I knew that he was going to do it for me, but that deep down, it wasn’t what he wanted.  I knew that I was pushing him and because he…, well, he wanted to make me happy.  But I saw it on his face, the fear.  And I knew that even if we all voted to change things, to tell the powers that be to fuck off, that he wasn’t going to choose me.  It wasn’t going to be some magic switch.  It wasn’t going to be like, fuck the bosses, let’s go get married.  He still wouldn’t have been mine.  But he wouldn’t have had the same excuses, which means he would have had to tell me the truth, the real truth, and I didn’t think I could take it.”

“The real truth?”

Harry did the best to swallow the lump in his throat.  “We had never had to choose each other before, you know?  It was never a choice for us.  From the beginning, it was always the most fundamental thing.  Like, how you know the sun will come up each morning, or that you can’t breath under water.  What’s between us, it’s just a part of us.  That doesn’t last forever, though, does it?  At some point, even the most basic things are called into question.  And the thing that you think you’re preserving?  Well, you’re just driving it to extinction instead.  I didn’t really understand it then, but I felt it, somewhere inside--I knew that if we had no official reason to hide that it would be up to us, and in the end, I didn’t think he’d choose me.”

“He’d always choose you, Harry.”

“He didn’t though,” Harry answered sadly.  Louis hadn’t chosen him at all.  He had very pointedly not chosen him.  

“Ah, mate, I didn’t know that.”

Harry looked up at Liam and saw the confusion on his face, and he searched for an explanation that made sense.  “It’s not really his fault.  Things aren’t so simple for us, you know.  He wanted to choose me.  Of that I have no doubt.  But I also know that no matter how much he wanted to choose me, that he wouldn’t...that he couldn’t.  I don’t blame him.  And that’s why I voted no.  Because at the last moment, I realized I didn’t want to make him choose then.  I didn’t want to lose him entirely.  I don’t think either of could have handled that.  Not then.  We would have imploded as a band, and he and I, well, I’m not sure I would have weathered it well.  In fact, I know I wouldn’t have.  We’re trying to do that now, and look what’s happening.”

“Trying to handle what?”

“He didn’t choose me, Liam.  What else do I have to say?  I forced him to choose.  He didn’t choose me.  I am trying to accept that, and I am trying to move on, but I can hardly stand being near him.  And in case you haven’t noticed, he doesn’t seem to be faring too well, either.”

“So that’s what all of this is about.”

Harry shrugged, trying to force the banana to stay put in his stomach.

“Why bring up the vote, then?”

“I didn’t.  I wouldn’t have, but it doesn't matter.  He had his reasons when he mentioned it to you, I’m sure.  But that was before.”

“You can fix, this, right?  There’s a way to fix it, isn’t there?  It’s only been a few months, surely not that much as changed.”

“I don’t know.  I think we’ve reached the point of no return.”

“But we are ready to support you, you know that right?”

“It isn’t about that anymore, Liam.”

“But you’re about to break the biggest hurdle.  All we need is final approval, and the barrier is gone, Harry.”

Harry shook his head.  “I used to think that.  That the contractual obligations, the closeting agreements were the biggest barriers.  Louis has hidden behind that barrier for so long, and it used to make me so angry.  But I finally realized that I was using those barriers, too.  I needed them as much as he did.  Just for different reasons.  I needed to protect myself.  In case I wasn’t enough.  And it turns out, I’m not.”

“Harry, I hardly think--”

“Liam, nothing you say will matter at this point.  Everything is fucked.  There is no clear cut answer to what has gone on, no map for what is coming.  Six months ago, that vote would have meant everything, but now, it means absolutely nothing.  It changes nothing.  We’ve set ourselves on different paths, and I am intent on sticking to mine.  We’ve made our choices, Liam, and as it turns out, the biggest barrier to this whole thing?  Well.  It’s us.  Louis and I?  We’re the thing that doesn’t work.  We didn’t chose each other Liam.  It was forced on us, as some sort of cruel, sick, cosmic joke, and we ruined it before we ever had a chance.”

  



	13. Chapter 13

Harry, along with his bandmates and the ever-present entourage, had touched down in LA only hours ago.  He had rushed home, only to rush out again with Celeste in tow, to an industry event that he had no interested in attending but that was mandatory.  He had been happy to set foot in his own home for a few hours, and just as unhappy to have to leave it again so quickly.  They were only in town for a few days, and Harry hadn’t wanted to spend it working.  Of course, that hardly mattered.  As soon as they arrived he was instantly swept into the crowd, being ferried about from one introduction to the next.  It only took minutes for Celeste to disappear from his side, and he was keenly aware of her absence.  Though he was not concerned for her well-being, he was not that sure about his own.  

“Do you remember that night,” Louis whispered into his ear.  “Forever ago now, an event similar to this one?”  

The lights were dim now, casting the room in shades of black and blue, and the people seemed to be gravitating toward one another, forming one large amoeba-like mass that was swallowing them up.  Harry hadn’t noticed Louis slip up behind him, and shivered as Louis’ words made it to his ear.  Of course he remembered.  He remembered everything about every moment that he and Louis had shared, from the first kiss to the last fight.  But his head was not in Louis’ country mansion, and his heart was rejecting the memory though his mind brought it into clear focus.

“For you,” Louis said, holding a drink as Harry turned to face him.  

“Thanks.”  It was pink and fizzy, and Harry let the bubbles pop in his mouth as he pretended to scan the room for someone else.  

“We need to talk.”

Harry shook his head.

“I know, but...things are happening, Harry.  You need to know.” Louis said to him.  “Come on,” Louis said, touching his arm before letting his fingers drift down the sleeve, his delicate fingers wrapping around Harry’s wrist, sliding his fingers across Harry’s palm.  Harry balled his hand into a fist, but not before he had felt the impact of such a simple touch course through him.  The movement of the crowd was pushing them dangerously close together.  Louis brushed his loose hair out of his eyes and stood up straight before leaning toward Harry, closer than was necessary.  But he backed away suddenly and Harry felt another arm slide around his waist.  

“There you are,” she said.  “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yes,” Harry said.  

Louis bit the inside of his cheek, but made no effort to put anymore physical distance between himself and Harry.  He forced a smile at Celeste.  

“Mind if I steal him away, Louis?” she asked.

He did, but he wasn’t going to say so.  “As long as I can have him back later.  We need to have a chat.  Business, you know.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Always.”  Harry was already pulling her away.  He elbowed his way through the crowd of people, anxious to get some fresh air.  He walked so quickly that Celeste had to quicken her pace to keep up, and didn’t stop until they had made it through the back doors and across the patio.  Her heels sank into the lawn, so she kicked her shoes off and left them in the grass.

“What’s going on,” she asked him, keeping pace better now that she was barefoot.  They made their way into the darkness, around the corner of the raised patio until they were hidden by a wall and he grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him.  She thudded hard against his rigid body, and he pressed his lips on hers, fiercely.  “Oh,” she said against his mouth, as his fingers worked to push her dress out of the way.  It was short and silky and slid easily over her skin.  

She laughed as he pressed her against the stone, cool against her bare back, and she deftly unbuckled his pants.  

It was over quickly, Harry pulling out of her and smoothing the dress back over her thighs as she sighed against his shoulder.  “You are such a rockstar,” she said.  

“I’m not,” he answered, suddenly feeling exhausted.  

“Well, you sure do fuck like one,” she said with a laugh, pulling her hair off her neck.  There was something about the way she said it that turned Harry’s stomach.  It sounded crass and uncharacteristic of her.  Not to mention the fact that he didn’t want to think of what other so-called rockstars she might have been with.  They stood there silently for a few moments until their breathing had returned to normal.  “Shall we go?”  She asked, turning to walk around the corner again.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said, waving her away.  He waited until she had turned the corner, and then slid down the wall until he met the ground.  He sat there for a while, in the dark, his arms resting on his knees, his head bent.  What was he doing?  He didn’t even know.

“Finished?” Louis said, startling Harry in the silence.  He scrambled to his feet, dusting the dirt off of his butt.  “Quite disheveled, too,” Louis said, his eyes landing on Harry’s undone belt.  They listened to the clanging of the buckle as Harry fastened it, without speaking.  “I feel like I should ask you how it was, but then, that would be quite weird, wouldn’t it?”

Harry groaned.  “Please don’t.”

“How am I supposed to take it that three minutes after I touch you, you’re out here fucking some girl?  Is that a compliment, or is it the opposite?”

“Cut it out, Lou,” Harry said, not in the mood for Louis’ bitter sarcasm.  “And she isn’t just some girl.”

“Isn’t she, though?  Do you know her at all?”

Harry didn’t appreciate the implication.

“I’m glad that I didn’t come sooner.  I’m not sure I would have taken it so well had I witnessed it first hand.”

“Stop.”  Harry felt awkward and embarrassed.  He didn’t know what had gotten into him, or what made him need, so urgently, to get into her.  

“Okay,” Louis agreed softly.  “Beverage?  You look to be a bit dehydrated.”  

Harry took the glass but glared at Louis as he did.  

His hands raised in surrender, Louis said, “I’m done.  Promise.”

“Good, can you leave me in peace then?”

“That I cannot do,” he said.  “We need to talk.  You’ve been avoiding me--all of us-- and I get it, and I’m not here to do anything other than talk, but it is something we have to do.  The others wanted to do this as a group, but since you seem so resistance to actually speaking to any of us for more than a few minutes, we thought it might be best if we did it differently.”

Harry closed his eyes and leaned against the wall again.  “Fine.”  He had been avoiding Louis, again, since the night he had spent with him, and he had been distant with the others as well.  No doubt Liam had related their conversation to them, and Harry couldn’t bear to face them any more than he had to.  “Tell me.  Let’s get this over with.”

“Zayn is leaving.”

“What?”

“He’s quitting.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Too bad.  I’m not sure I’m surprised.”

“None of us are. To be fair, we’ll have a bit of extra work, but it isn’t like he’s been into it lately anyway.”

“Good riddance then,” Harry said.  

“Good riddance, indeed.”  

The two boys stared at the expansive yard in front of them, reflecting, momentarily, on the loss of someone they had once loved, but whose absence would seem insignificant going forward.  

“So,” Louis continued.  The news seemed to bridge the awkwardness between them, broke the ice for what he was going to say next.  He had thought about how he might say this, a million times.  He had imagined a different scenario than this, of course, but he wasn’t going to let another opportunity slip.  Too easily over the last couple of weeks had he made excuses as to why he couldn’t or shouldn’t say anything.  “I’ve called it off with Eleanor.  We’ve broken up.”

Harry had waited for what felt like an entire lifetime to hear those words, but the fact that he was hearing them now, in this moment…

“When,” Harry croaked.  He had pictured this moment differently.  He had imagined it to be a more joyful one.  But right now, he didn’t know how to feel.

“Last week.  That morning.  Right after you left.”

Louis had waited for over a week to tell him.  For what purpose?  “Good for you?”

Louis nodded once, dropping his chin to his chest and staring at the toes of Harry’s boots.  “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected more.”

“What did you expect, Lou?”

Louis eyes darted past Harry.  “Did you hear something?”

“No.”  Harry hadn’t heard anything, except the sound of his hopes and dreams clattering into his empty stomach. 

Louis walked a few paces away, staring into the thick shrubs before shrugging and returning to Harry’s side.  “We’ve come so far from where we were, Harry.  I have to say, that first night we spent together, those months that followed?  They were so perfect….  How could something so wonderful bring us to this point?”

 

****

_“Can I stay?”_

_Louis looked up to find Harry standing in the doorway.  Moments before, the room had been filled with the noise of five boys who had suddenly been left to their own devices without the guide of parents or vigilant caretakers.  They always gravitated toward one another, only going their separate ways when it was finally time to sleep.  Tonight, they had eaten pizza and watched a movie.  Crammed on a small sofa, Louis took advantage of the opportunity to snuggle close to Harry, using Niall (sprawled out as if the sofa was occupied by himself alone), as his excuse if anyone had asked.  Of course no one had.  The closeness between him and Harry was never questioned, if it was thought of at all._

_He paid particular attention to they way Harry’s body tensed or the way it shook as he laughed as the movie played.  He tried not to put too much thought into the way Harry’s fingers grazed the back of his neck as he stretched his arm out along the back of the sofa.  Louis couldn’t help but wonder, though, what would happen if the others weren’t there.  If perhaps he might snuggle closer together, if he might look up at Harry at the same time Harry looked down at him, if an arm around the shoulder might turn into a hand on a leg, a timid smile, and then…._

_But the movie had ended, and the others had jumped up, declaring that it was time for bed, showers, video games.  Louis wanted none of those things.  He had shifted uncomfortably as someone flipped on the lights, feeling exposed, and though Harry made no move to rise, Louis sat up straight and leaned the other way.  He had held his breath until Harry finally stood and said, “I guess I should go, too.”_

_Louis had busied himself with stacking the empty cups left all over the place, and folding up the pizza boxes as he listened to the chatter of the boys moving down the hallway, all of them, away from him, but he was so distracted that he hadn’t noticed that the door had never shut, and that Harry had stayed behind._

_Typically loud and gregarious, Harry looked nervous, shy, and he wouldn’t quite meet Louis’ eye.  He had one arm wrapped around himself in a protective maneuver, and his head was tilted forward so that his unruly hair fell in his face._

_Louis had been waiting for this moment for, well, forever.  From the moment he had first seen Harry, there was no question in his mind what the outcome would be.  And in those first moments, he had not felt any fear of the unknown, any hesitation in giving his heart to someone he had only just met.  Those things would come later, jumbled up into a mess that a young boy in love wouldn’t understand or think about until they had come to pass._

_Harry gripped himself more tightly, his own fingers digging into his side as he waited for Louis to answer.  Harry thought that perhaps he had misread things, that he had picked up on something that wasn’t there.  Maybe he had imagined it all as part of his ever-wishful thinking, and he silently berated himself as he stood there feeling foolish.  They had spent nearly every waking moment together for months now, working, performing, and Harry had felt drawn to Louis in a way he had never been drawn to anyone before.  There had been flirtations in school, fleeting crushes on girls, a few steamy kisses, but nothing that had interested him further; no one had captured his heart and his mind and his soul the way he felt that Louis was doing to him now._

_“Err,” Harry said, dropping his outstretched arm from where it was propped against the doorjamb, and trying to force a smile to his face.  He was trying to come up with some excuse as to why he would have said something so dumb, but Louis finally came to his senses._

_“No.  I mean, yes.  Come.  In,” he said, fumbling with his words.  It was uncharacteristic of him, but for all of the times that he had pictured this moment, he wasn’t prepared for it to actually happen.  He could see the way Harry’s posture relaxed just a little as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him; he leaned against it, as if he was unsure of stepping fully into the room.  How was it that they could be so easy with each other when the whole world was watching, but now, alone, just the two of them, the weight of everything that had been building for months coming to a head, they were both rooted in place?_

_Louis searched for something to say, some joke that would break the unexpected ice, but he was coming up empty.  “Are you just going to stand there, then?” is what he finally settled on.  A slow smile broke out on Harry’s face, and he tossed his hair back as he he stood up straight and walked closer._

_Neither boy knew what to do.  What was it about this moment that was so different from all of the others?  They had shared beds and buses and bathrooms.  They had practically lived on top of each other, seen each other day and night, and now, here, in this moment, it was as if they barely knew each other._

_Louis, not knowing what else to do took the pile of trash that he was still holding into the small kitchen.  “Why don’t you help with this mess instead of just standing there?”_

_Harry did, picking up a pile of paper plates and following him to the trashcan.  He hadn’t come here for this.  He hadn’t stayed back so that he could help Louis clean up, but he didn’t know what else to do.  He didn’t know how to do what he wanted to do.  He let the plates slide into the bin and turned to see Louis leaning against the counter with a bit of a smirk on his face._

_“You could always be a bin man if this thing doesn’t pan out,” Louis joked, earning a bit of nervous laughter from Harry.  “Would you like a drink?”_

_Harry shook his head.  He didn’t want another beer.  Perhaps it would have made it easier to figure out just how to make a move, but he didn’t want anything clouding this and changing it from what he wanted it to be._

_The space was small, yet he had never felt further from Louis, as if suddenly, it felt strange to be alone with Louis, felt strange to reach out and touch him fondly or smile at him, or whisper something funny in his ear.  With each passing second it became more and more awkward._

_“I don’t know how to do this, either,” Louis said, reading Harry’s mind._

_That simple admission relaxed Harry.  To know that he wasn’t mistaken in his intentions, and to know that he wasn’t the only one unsure of how to navigate this new reality, was a relief.  He took a step toward Louis, their bodies only inches apart.  Louis reached toward him, his fingers reaching Harry’s elbow, then sliding down his arm until he held Harry’s hand in his._

_They heard a clatter from the other room and, already on edge, jumped away from each other.  They listened for further noise, afraid someone had come back, but when they poked their heads around the corner, the room was empty, a remote control lying on the floor, its batteries scattered._

_“Well,” Louis said, bending to pick it up.  Harry watched as he replaced the batteries and then tossed it onto the sofa.  “Perhaps we should lock up,” Louis said.  He went to the door and locked it, then flipped off the lights.  “Shall we go to bed?”  He walked by Harry and continued through another door that led to the bedroom, and suddenly things seemed to be going much more quickly than Harry had meant them to be.  Still, he followed Louis into the bedroom and stopped abruptly at the sight of the bed.  “Come on,” Louis said, leaning around him to close the bedroom door, and then grabbing his hand.  Louis’ confidence had been bolstered by that moment in the kitchen, and though he was still quite nervous, he was more excited than he was scared.  He wasn’t so sure about Harry, whose eyes had gone wide as Louis had closed them in the room.  It stirred a protectiveness in him that he hadn’t noticed before, the need to take care of Harry, to shield him from everything bad that the world would have to offer him._

_“Don’t be afraid,” Louis whispered, pulling Harry towards him._

_“I’m not,” Harry said.  It wasn’t the complete truth, but it wasn’t a total lie._

_Louis reached up and pushed the hair out of Harry’s face.  Harry’s curls tempted him all day, every day.  It was all he could do not to touch them, and now that he could without some far fetched excuse or random joke made him smile.  “Look at me,” he said to Harry.  Harry looked at him through his eyelashes, and bit his lip, keeping still, as if Louis would disappear if he moved.  Louis brushed his thumb across Harry’s lips, the one thing he wanted to touch more than Harry’s hair.  Louis had a million things he could have said, confessions and warnings, but he chose against it.  There was nothing else he wanted in this moment and he would be a fool to ruin it now._

_He searched Harry’s face, and watched as Harry’s eyes fluttered closed and he leaned forward, his full lips barely parted.  It felt like hours, those milliseconds before Harry pressed his lips to Louis’ own.  It was a sweet kiss, an innocent one, over as soon as it began.  Harry backed away, and Louis could see the blush rising on Harry’s pale cheeks as he felt the heat rise in his own face.  Louis didn’t let him get far, reaching to wrap his arms around Harry’s waist and pull him back, pressing their lips together once again, more firmly this time, but not forceful.  This wasn’t about reaching some end point as quickly as possible; it was about experiencing every single thing about this moment.  Subconsciously, they both knew that this was something secretive, a thing that had to be cherished; they would never have this moment again, and who knows what the future would bring._

_They relaxed against each other, their lips parting, mouths opening, tongues searching.  For all of the build up it felt normal, natural, perfect.  Harry stepped into Louis, nudging him backwards toward the bed.  It felt exhilarating to be here, unsupervised, unchaperoned, no curfew to send them scurrying home, unsatiated.  The thought was too tantalizing in the moment to cause Harry any sort of hesitation, and so he easily climbed atop the bed, the two of them stretched out on their sides next to each other.  They kicked off their shoes as they smiled at each other.  Louis’ fingers gripped Harry’s hip, and his thumb edged up the hem of Harry’s shirt.  Harry inhaled sharply as Louis’ fingers splayed over his bare skin.  Louis leaned to kiss him again, and scooted closer so that their bodies were touching, fit together as they should be.  The flimsy fabric of their sweatpants left little question as to how they both were feeling.  Harry leaned back onto the bed, lost to Louis’ kisses and caresses.  Louis tugged at his shirt.  “Lift up,” he whispered.  “Take this off.”    He helped Harry pull the sweater off, resting his palm against the place where Harry’s heart beat quickly.  “You are quite beautiful,” Louis told him.  His own candidness surprised him.  He could tell that Harry was nervous now, and he didn’t want to do anything to scare him away, but the way he felt right now was overwhelming._

_“You alright, love?” Louis asked him._

_Harry cleared his throat and nodded.  And then he shook his head no._

_“No?”  Louis asked, sitting up in concern.  The last thing he wanted was for this entire thing to go wrong before it ever had a chance._

_“I don’t...this isn’t what I expected,” he managed to say, forcing a nervous laugh._

_“What do you mean?  Didn’t you want to...?”_

_Harry sat up and drew his knees to his chest.  “I mean, I do want to, but…”_

_Louis’ mind was flooded with a million possible ways that Harry could complete that sentence.  He felt panicked all of a sudden, that ‘but’ hanging between them, one small phrase the thing that could take this all away when it had just begun._

_Harry sighed and fluffed his hair while Louis sat beside him anxiously awaiting what he might say next._

_“I’ve not....I haven’t...I’ve not done…,” Harry stammered.  “I have never...like this…been with....”  He cursed himself for sounding so childish, so embarrassed._

_“With….?”  Louis coaxed, wondering just what Harry was getting at._

_Harry took a deep breath, ready for Louis to laugh at him, and then sighed, “Anyone.”_

_“Oh,” Louis said, flopping back onto the pillow._

_“I didn’t...this wasn’t meant to be….” There he went again, not being able to the find the words when they usually came to him so easily.  He knew what he wanted to say, that this wasn’t just about sex, that this was about more for him, but it seemed foolish to say to Louis that he loved him, that he didn’t want to rush things, that he wanted each moment, each step to be special in its own right, not all pressed together in the span of a few hours._

_“You’re adorable when you’re nervous, Harry, you know that?”  Louis was doing his best not to laugh, worried that Harry might take his laughter of relief as laughter at him._

_“Don’t make fun of me,” Harry said._

_“Make fun of you?  Never,” Louis said.  “Never in a million years would I make fun of you for this Harry.  Never.”_

_“Thank you.  I just don’t want….”_

_“To rush things?”_

_Harry nodded._

_“Fair enough,” Louis said, tugging Harry toward him.  “Just this, then,” Louis said, kissing him again.  “And maybe this,” he said, dragging his finger from Harry’s knee, to his thigh, just grazing past that place that he knew was off-limits...for the time being anyway.  Harry twitched beneath his touch._

_“Lou,” he said, barely a whisper._

_Louis smirked, pleased at the way his name sounded coming from Harry.  “Okay.  Maybe not then.”_

****

“Your closet is a wreck,” Celeste said to him.  

“So?”

“How can you find anything, ever?”

“I can’t.”

“I’ll clean it out for you,” she said.  “There’s no way half of this stuff fits you,” she said.  “You could sell this and make a fortune.”

Harry shrugged.  “I don’t need you to go through my closet,” he said.  Of course half of it didn’t fit him.  Half of it wasn’t his.  

She pulled out a silk shirt and held it up to herself.  “This is fabulous.”

“Take it,” he said, disinterested.  He had too much on his mind.  He felt uneasy about the night before.  “Celeste...tell me something about yourself.”

She laughed from the depths of his closet.  “Like what?”

“Anything.  I feel as though I hardly know you sometimes.”

“There isn’t much to know.  What’s this?”  She emerged from the closet with a familiar box.  

“Nothing,” he said casually, standing and taking the box, putting it back where it belonged.  

“Why do you have so much stuff here when you’re hardly ever home?”

“Why not.”

“It feels so much like a home, here.  It’s almost strange.”

“We did that on purpose,” he said, not catching his own choice of words.  

“We?”  Her eyebrows were raised when his snapped his head toward hers.  

“What?”

“You said ‘we did that on purpose.’  Who’s ‘we?’”

Harry thought for a split second that perhaps he just should tell her and thought of what a relief it would be.  But that was ridiculous.  “I meant more generally,” he said.  “We all do that on purpose.  Make homes for ourselves.”

“Ah,” she said.  “Makes sense, I guess.”  

He caught her around the waist as she walked past him.  “Tell me about yourself,” he asked her, kissing her on the nose.  “Where are you from?  What do you do?”  As he asked the questions, he realized how very little he knew about her.  They had talked about movies and music and books, about his friends and his job, but as he tried to piece together the details of who she was, and couldn’t, he felt troubled.  Perhaps Louis had been right.  She laughed and squirmed out of his grasp.  

“I could ask you the same,” she said.  

“You know a lot more about me than I do about you,” he told her.  

“Do I?  You are the most secretive person I’ve ever met.  Your friends, too.”

“We’ll get to me,” he said, though he doubted it.

She sighed.  “There isn’t much to know.  Typical bored girl leaves small town for the big city story here.  I’ve broken a few hearts along the way, I suppose.  You?”

“I’ve been the broken,” he told her.  I am the broken, he thought.  “Not so much the breaker.”

“Have you?  Harry Styles, the womanizer?”

“I want to kill the person who pegged me as such,” he told her.  “Couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Who broke your heart, then?” she asked quietly.  

“Doesn’t matter,” he said quickly.  His phone vibrated in his pocket.  It was an urgent text alert from their manager.  “Shit.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said.  “I need to go.”

“Right now?  Just when we were getting to really know each other?”

“I’m afraid that’s the story of my life,” he told her.  He smiled as he pulled a t-shirt over his head.  “I’ll be back later.  Leave my closet alone.”

 

“Have you seen the news?”  Harry and Louis were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa facing a stern looking publicist.  His name was Richard, and he wasn’t Harry’s favorite; he and Louis had often joked about just how serious the man was.  

“No,” Harry said at the same time Louis said, “Yes.”  Harry glanced at Louis out of the corner of his eye.  “What news?”

This meeting felt reminiscent of previous meetings, phone calls, scoldings.  He thought that they had mostly gotten past that, and considering that he and Louis had hardly been speaking, he couldn’t imagine what new news there could be.  Richard held out several pieces of paper to Harry.  “Will you people ever stop wasting trees?”

“Will you two ever stop giving us a run for our money?”

“You should be glad we’re keeping you in a job,” Louis said from his corner of the sofa.  “Where would you be if Harry and I weren’t so problematic?”

“You can joke all you want, Louis, but something has changed.”

“What is this,” Harry said, scanning the article.  It was a picture of him and Louis at the party the night before.  Louis stood against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers while Harry did up his buckle.  

“You tell me,” Richard said.

“It’s not what it looks like, that’s for sure,” Harry said, wondering why Louis wasn’t saying anything, and turned to him, holding out the printouts.  “You knew about this?  Before now?”  

Louis shrugged.  “Tell Dick that it isn’t what it looks like.”

Louis turned to face Richard.  “It isn’t what it looks like.”

“What is it, then?  And don’t call me ‘Dick.’”  Both boys were silent.  “I need to know the truth so that I can clear it up.”

“Well, I had just happened upon Harry here, who had been otherwise engaged with a girl.”

“With my girlfriend,” Harry specified.

“Right,” Louis answered.

“Celeste?”  Richard asked, writing her name down.  

“Yes,” Harry said.  It was embarrassing him to talk about this.

“So, you and Celeste were…?”

“Use your imagination, Richard.  Honestly.  I told you I heard something, Harry.”

“You heard something?  What do you mean you heard something,” Richard said.  

“I thought I heard someone, or something, in the bushes.”

“And you ignored it?”

“No, Richard, I didn’t ignore it.  I checked, saw nothing, went back to what I was doing.”

“With Harry?”

“We weren’t doing anything,” Harry said sharply.  “I don’t understand.  If there was someone in the bushes--

“Which obviously there was.”

Harry glared at Louis before continuing.  “Why these pictures?  Why not pictures of whatever happened before Louis showed up.”

“Good point, Harold.  That would have been much more...interesting...I am sure.”

Harry rolled his eyes.  

“Look guys, I’m sensing a bit of animosity between you two.”

“You think, Rich?”

“You can have all the attitude you want, Louis.  I know I am not your favorite person, and I can’t blame you.  I don’t know what is going on here, but regardless of what really happened, this is a serious breach.  I know that you guys try and avoid the tabloids, but something is going on that is rather alarming and we need to close ranks.”

“What do you mean?”  Harry asked.

“Things are leaking at a record pace.  We are losing control of the rumors.  My team is doing everything we can, but there are a lot of loose ends that are appearing.”

“So, you’re doing your jobs, then?”  Louis asked.  “We don’t need to be too concerned.”  He started to stand up.  

“We are trying to do our jobs.  But I need more answers, Louis, please sit.”

“There aren’t any more answers about last night.  Harry and I were just talking after Harry had fucked Celeste on the lawn of some millionaire-thrown quote-unquote industry party.”

“I’m not just talking about last night.  But I’ll need Celeste to come in for a chat,” he told Harry.  “If you could call her now, that would be great.”

“Now?  And I’m just supposed to call her and say, come on in, love, we’ve got some rumors to clear up?”

“Yes.”

“No.  I’m not doing that to her.  She isn’t involved in this.”

“Well, that’s not true,” Louis said.

“Talk to her first, then, but I do need to see her, or you can’t socialize with her anymore.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Harry said, uncomfortable laughter bursting out of him.  “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Well, we do try to avoid that these days, but yes, I can.”

“Jesus,” Harry said.  “I thought we were past this bullshit.  Louis and I are hardly speaking, and there certainly isn’t anything to cover up anymore.”

“Why aren’t you speaking?”

His question was met with stony silence.

“This isn’t just about the two of you either.”

“Then where are Niall and Liam?”

“They are here.  Down the hall with Courtney.”  

“You’ve split us up?  For what purpose?  We are supposed to do these things together.”

“We thought that you might prefer the privacy of smaller, separate meetings.  Give me a minute.  I’ll be right back.”  

“What is happening, Louis,” Harry asked quietly as Richard left the room, turning out of habit to Louis to explain what was going on, looking for reassurance from him.    

Louis shook his head.  “I don’t know,” he answered back.  “But I’m fairly certain this is about to be the most uncomfortable meeting of our lives.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Harry said, thinking about so many other meetings that made him want to crawl out of his skin, having to explain and excuse so many behaviors over the years.  

 “Yes, well, somehow, it was easier when we were in it together.  When it felt worth it.  Now, it just feels strange.”

 “We’re still in it together, Louis, aren’t we?  How are we not?”

 “You know what I mean,” Louis said, raising his eyes to Richard, who had returned with drinks and sandwiches.  “Food?  Jesus christ, what is happening?  I didn’t know I needed to clear my schedule for the foreseeable future.”

 “We’ve taken care of that for you,” Richard answered, not skipping a beat.

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

“I don’t understand why we have to do this,” Louis said.  

“The order came from the top,” Richard told him.  

“That’s a convenient answer,” Harry said.  

“Guys, here’s the thing.  We need to know everything that could possibly come out.  We’ve got clues, but we can’t put the whole thing together without your help.”

“And why should we help?  Don’t we have anything that’s private anymore?”

“You have to help.  Aside from the fact that it is in your best interests, you don’t have a choice.”

“How exactly is it in our best interests?”

“Well, if someone is going to make money off your stories, shouldn’t it be you?”

“Ah, so back to the whole money thing,” Louis said sarcastically.  “Heaven forbid any of you actually care about us.”

“Again, Louis, stop trying to make me into the bad guy.”

“You do realize that we are real people, don’t you?”  Harry’s voice was cold and even.  It made the hairs on Louis’ arm stand on end.  “We are real people with real feelings.  I just want to make that clear before you tear us apart.  I want you to understand that whatever things we are forced to...confess here are real things that happened--are happening--to real people.  I-we-need your assurances that this isn’t going to go straight into some tell-all piece of shit book that will make someone--still not us--billions of dollars while our reputations are thrown to the wind.”

Richard released a sigh of exasperation.  “Of course, Harry.  You two can stop with the dramatics.  It’s all right here,” he said, pushing a contract between the two of them.  “It’s all here.  Liam and Niall have already signed it.  We will not release any information or statements without your express consent going forward.  We are only doing this for our records, so that things are not taking us by surprise.  We need to know who out there has any animosity towards you, who has grudges or motives, or whatever else.  We need to be able to separate the rumors from the facts at this point, and it is getting harder to do.”

Harry and Louis read the contract over again, Louis being so thorough as to call his own Lawyer who, yes, had a copy of it, and yes, it was sound and secure.

“Okay,” Richard started.  “Let’s talk about Zayn, first.”

“Zayn?”

“Yes.  Zayn.  Is there any reason to believe he might go to the press about the things he knows?”

“Surely he can’t?”

“Technically he can’t, but stranger things have happened.  What does he know?”

“Pretty much everything,” Louis said, resignedly.  

“Yeah,” Harry said.  “But he’d never.”

“Are you sure?”  
“Yes,” the both said in unision.  Though they had both been rattled in their own ways about the news, they didn’t have any reason not to trust him.

“No grudges, no animosity between Zayn and any of the rest of you?”

“Nothing of note, that I’m aware of,” Louis said.

“I agree.  Zayn is not an issue.”

“Okay,” Richard said.  They watched as he made a few notes.  Harry sipped on a bottle of water, but the sandwiches lay untouched.  No one was in the mood to eat.  

“Tell me about Eleanor.”

“What about her?”

“What does she know?”

“About what?”  Louis was being difficult on purpose.

“She knows everything,” Harry said resignedly, ignoring Louis’ disgruntled clearing of his throat.  

“Everything?”

“She doesn’t know everything,” Louis countered.  

“She knows the important parts, doesn’t she?”  Harry said to him.

“Depends on what you deem important,” Louis answered.  

“Are you determined to make this worse than it already is?”

“Guys,” Richard said.  “Let’s not squabble.  We just need the facts.”

“The facts.”

“The breakup, was it amicable?  Contentious?  Who dumped whom?”

Louis threw his hands up in the air.  It felt somehow disloyal to be having this conversation with someone else, before he could tell Harry the entire story.  Harry felt uncomfortable too.  So much about this entire thing felt wrong.  “It wasn’t the most pleasant thing.  But we agreed, mutually, that it was for the best.”

“What was the cause of the breakup?”

“Why in god’s name do you need to know that?”

“To weed through the mess.  I need to know which stories are outright lies, and which are coming from a legitimate source.  If someone prints a rumor that has no merit, we can take actions against it, or ignore it altogether.  If someone prints something that rings true, that is not sanctioned, we need to hunt down the origins.  Why did you break up with her?”

“It wasn’t working anymore.”

“All of a sudden?”

“Not really, no.”  

“Who initiated the split?”

“I did.”

“Because?”  

“Harry?”

“Hm?”  Harry said in response.

“No.  I mean: Harry was the reason.”  

A low whine initiated in Harry’s throat.  “And does she know this?” Richard prompted.

“Yes.”

The sound coming from Harry strengthened into a thing just short of a roar, escaping from his mouth as he pulled on his hair.  

“Harry did not, I presume,” Richard said, looking alarmed at Harry’s reaction.  

“Why why why why why why why,” Harry moaned.  

“Can we have a moment, Richard?”  Louis asked.  Richard nodded, and left the room quickly.  It was obvious that he wanted to escape the moment as much as Louis and Harry did.

“Why’d you think I did it, Harry?”

Harry dug his fists into the sofa.  “After all of this, Louis?  Why now?”

“I started to realize some things.”

“Did you?  You’ve just started to realize some things?  Did you realize what an asshole you are?  Did you realize that you broke my heart?  Do you realize that you crushed every single thing that I was and wanted to be?  Do you realize that Louis?”  The dam had broken in Harry and he couldn’t stop it now, even if he tried.  “Did you realize that when you specifically did not choose me, when I offered you everything, as long as I would be the only one you loved, that you ruined me?  That I went home, to our home, barely able to move?  Barely able to get out of bed?  Do you know how alone I felt?  Do you understand how horrible that felt?”

“No, Harry, I...I thought...you said you were happy.”

“I was fucking lying.  Jesus.  I was trying, Louis, but I was lying.  I don’t remember the last time I was happy.”

“The glass house.”

“What?”

“That’s the last time we were happy.”

“Fuck that house,” Harry said.  “Don’t act like you’ve been suffering along with me.  Don’t act like you didn’t have a choice this time.  You did have a choice, and now, too late, you’re changing your mind.”

“Too late?”

“Too fucking late,” Harry spat.  He threw the door to the room open.  “Richard.”

Richard walked in hesitantly, no doubt having heard most of what had just transpired.  “Everything okay?”

“Obviously not,” Louis said, rolling his eyes.  

“What’s next?”  Harry asked.

“I’m not sure we’re clear on Eleanor.”

“El--

“Eleanor knows everything there is to know, in terms of myself and Louis.  That’s it.  She won’t say anything,” Harry told him.  “We won’t discuss her further.  Write it down in your notebook and get on with the next pile of shit.”

“Right then.”  Richard scanned his notes.  “I have to ask about drugs.”

“We’re discreet,” Louis said.

“Or we don’t do them at all,” Harry said sarcastically.  “Next.”

“Er, women?  Or...partners in general?  Of a sexual nature?”

“Nope,” Louis said.  “Not on my end, anyway.”  His tone was beyond bitter.

“That was our agreement,” Harry shot back.

“Whatever,” Louis said dismissively.  

“Okay.”  

“Shall we take a break?”

“No,” both Harry and Louis said in unison.  

“Who is,” Richard had to refer back to his notes to recall the name.  “Max?”

The name dropped like a leaden hammer.  “I think I’ll take a break after all,” Louis said, standing and walking quickly toward the door.

“Who told you about him?”  Harry asked, his eyes were trained on the door that Louis had just exited.  “No one knows about Max.  There is no way you know about Max.”  Harry felt panicked.  “There are only three people who know about Max,” Harry said.

“This is the sort of thing we’re talking about, Harry,” Richard said, trying to adopt a soothing tone.  “Who are the three people who know about Max?”

“Me, Max, and Louis.  How do you know about Max?”

“There was a small news item suggesting a...friendship between you and Max.  People noticed, and started piecing things together, and it seems that there are implications that it was a bit more serious than a simple friendship.”

“Max wouldn’t,” Harry said.  

“Maybe he would,” Richard said.  “Do you have contact information for him?”

Harry sighed.  “Somewhere.  Not here.”

“Is he, or was he, more than a friend, Harry?”

“Yes.”  Harry felt defeated.  “It didn’t last long, but it was quite serious.”

“We’ll get it sorted, Harry.  Don’t worry,” Richard told them.  

The room went quiet.  They waited for Louis to return while Harry waited for Richard’s next blow, trying to remain calm, but feeling like a powder keg about to burst.  

“Are we done yet?”  

“Unfortunately, no, we aren’t done yet.”  Richard stared at his list for what seemed like forever.  All Harry wanted to do was jump up and run out of the room.  He needed to be alone.  He needed to be away from Louis, and Richard, and the the boys down the hall, all of it.  He needed to be gone.

“Get on with it then,” Louis said stiffly.  He was acutely aware of Harry’s agitation, and part of him wished he hadn’t left the room for Harry to fend for himself.  .  

“How….”  Richard started.  He shifted uncomfortably while Louis glared at him.  Harry was staring intently at the floor. "I understand that the band held a vote recently to repeal the closeting agreement that has been in place.  Is it your intention, either of you, or both, to come out publicly at this time?"

The question was met with silence.  Harry’s leg started bouncing, and he turned to look at Louis.  Louis opened his mouth, but no words came out, and he clamped it shut again.    He reached toward Harry, but Harry saw it coming and shirked away.  “Don’t, Louis.”

“We won’t be answering questions about that, Richard, nor will any of our publicists, so fuck off,” Louis finally said.

Richard did not seem inclined to press the issue; judging by the look on his face he was just as happy to let it drop.  “Fair enough.  Moving on.  Are the two of you in a relationship with one another?”

“Nope,” Harry said as he stood.  “I’m leaving now.  You can sue me if you have to, but I’m done with this.”

Harry walked out of the room.  No one stopped him.  He heard footsteps behind him, but he kept moving through the building, running down the stairs so quickly he almost tripped twice before catching himself with the railing.  “You’re gonna kill yourself,” Louis said from a flight above him.  “Slow down, would you?”

“Leave me alone, Louis,” he said.  “I can’t take another moment of any of this.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Harry stopped on the landing and looked up to where Louis was leaning over the railing.  “Are you kidding me right now?  I’ve just had my entire life spread out like a fucking feast for some asshole to categorize and compartmentalize.  Fucking Richard of all people.  And you…you couldn’t even do me the courtesy of speaking to me privately.  You just want to spring this bullshit on me--you know what?  You can fuck off, too,” he said, and continued down the stairs two at a time.  He ignored Louis clattering after him, and pushed through the back door where his motorcycle was waiting.  

 ****

_“Marry me,” Louis said softly.  He squinted against the sun, and turned on his side on the lounge chair, and looked at Harry who was flat on his back.  A smile broke out on Harry’s face, and he giggled before turning his head and pulling off his sunglasses._

_“Okay,” Harry answered, and he smiled again before replacing his sunglasses and going back to his sunbathing.  Louis still watched him.  Harry’s skin was bronzed by the tropical sun, and his hair was still damp from the ocean.  His gazed wandered from Harry’s jaw line to his neck, to his shoulders, and across his torso to where the tiniest of swim trunks sat low on Harry’s hips.  Louis often teased him for his choice of swimwear, but secretly, he loved that fact that Harry had no qualms about wearing the most ridiculous thing he could find._

_The gentle caribbean waves crashed quietly on the sand, just a few feet from where they lay, and Louis was certain that there was no greater place on earth, no moment better than this one right now.  Well, maybe one, he thought, but it hadn’t happened just yet.  They were on a quiet, secluded island, just the two of them having a well-earned, and long-overdue holiday.  No bandmates, no friends or family, no watchful eyes of paparazzi or fans.  There was nothing to worry about, no secrets to keep, no searching for shadows in which to hide._

_They were here, together, half naked and basking in the sun with no cares in the world._

_It was seductive, this sort of situation.  It lured them into a sense of security they so rarely felt, and it was moments like these that Louis believed that everything would be okay._

_It had been a hard year for them.  Harry had not easily recovered from his break up with Max, and the loss that he had felt created a lot of tension between hims and Louis.  To watch Harry navigate his heartbreak had been trying, and though Louis felt like he was getting what he wanted, he also felt responsible for the pain Harry so obviously felt._

_It was a hard place to be, and the guilt that they both felt drove a complicated wedge between them.  Though in many ways they had been closer than ever, in others, they found it hard to navigate the day to day of their situation.  Louis wanted to fix that.  He wanted to do something, anything he could, to make this more permanent, to promise to Harry that no matter what might happen, their life together was what he was choosing._

_Louis continued to watch Harry until the gentle rise and fall of his chest indicated that he had dozed off.  He smiled, tilted the umbrella so that Harry was at least partially in the shade, and waded out into the water.  He let the gentle lapping of the waves around his legs calm him, and then dove under a wave.  He wasn’t nervous, exactly, but he wanted to do it just right so that Harry understood just how serious he was, that no matter the contracts and obligations or the fears and the worries, that Harry was his beginning and his ending._

_He walked back toward Harry and, dripping wet, laid on top of him.  Harry wiggled beneath him.  “You’re all wet,” Harry said._

_“Now you are, too.”  Harry kissed him, raising his hips into him.  “Jesus, do you ever quit?”_

_“Hey, I was happily having a little nap here in the shade.  You’re the one who came and interrupted it.”  Harry slipped his hands in the waistband of Louis’ shorts, pressing him against himself.  “So, you’ll just have to make it up to me.”_

_“I’ll make it up to you, alright.”  Louis dropped his head to Harry’s shoulder and smiled against his warm skin.  He smelled of salt and sunscreen, and it drove Louis mad with wanting him.  “You should get out of the sun,” he said.  “You’re getting quite pink.”  Louis rolled off him and walked into the house.  “Are you coming?”_

_“In a minute,” Harry told him.  “I just want to cool off first.”_

_Louis turned and watched as Harry dove into the water, the way he broke through the surface again and tossed his wet hair out of his face, and he decided he couldn’t wait._

_He had thought he would plan some elaborate dinner, make the entire thing a romantic event that Harry wouldn’t forget, but ironically, it seemed less special that way.  He didn’t want to wait any longer, and so he decided he wouldn’t.  He reached beneath the bed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Harry hadn’t come in yet, and pulled the ring out of the box.  He had bought it months ago, but the moment had never felt right._

_He heard Harry’s wet feet smacking against the tile floors as he approached the bedroom, and he strode in purposefully, coming right for Louis._

_“You’ve got to finish what you start,” he said cheekily, taking Louis face in his and kissing him boldly, until it left them both breathless._

_“I thought you’d cooled off,” Louis said when he was released._

“Obviously not,” Harry said, gripping Louis tightly and pushing him toward the bed.

“Wait,” Louis said, though it was a struggle to stop Harry’s passionate assault on him.  He pressed his hands against Harry’s chest and pushed him away, just a bit, so that he could look into Harry’s eyes.  

“What is it,” Harry said.  “Is everything okay?”

_“Everything is fine,” Louis said.  “I’m just….  I love you,” Louis said.  Suddenly the moment felt all wrong again.  Louis wondered, as Harry peeled off his swim trunks in front of him with a seductive look on his face, if the right moment would ever come.  He was certain that with Harry being so tempting, he’d never get the timing right._

_Hours later, after spending the afternoon wrapped around one another, after sharing a simple dinner at the kitchen counter, after arguing over whether they’d go back to London or to LA when their vacation was through, Louis knew he had the perfect moment._

_They were sitting on the beach, the sand cool beneath their feet, and a gentle breeze blowing through their private cove. They were sitting close, shoulder to shoulder with their knees drawn up in front of them, looking at the reflection of the moon on the water._

_“It is so amazing here,” Louis said._

_“I wish we didn’t have to leave,” Harry said._

_“Let’s stay forever.”_

_“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Harry said._

_“I do wish we could,” Louis told him._  

_“I wish we could save this moment forever, Louis.  Like, just take a snapshot of this moment, so that we can always remember exactly how we felt right now.”_

_Louis smiled in the darkness.  “Maybe we can,” he said quietly.  Harry turned to face him, and he pulled the ring out of his pocket, holding it up between them.  “I wasn’t joking earlier,” Louis told him.    “Will you marry me?”_

_He raised his eyes hopefully to Harry, who was staring back at him.  “I don’t know how or when, Harry.  But I know that I love you and that I don’t want to lose you.  And regardless of what has happened before this moment, or will happen after this moment, you have my heart.  Someday, some way, I want you to be mine, and me to be yours.  None of the other stuff will last forever, but you and I....”  He dropped off.  The intensity of his emotions in the moment surprised him, and the way Harry was looking at him, dumbfounded, without saying anything was starting to unnerve him.  “I want you to be my forever, Harry.  That’s what I’m trying to say.  That when all of this is done and finished, when our time is up, when we are free of all of our obligations, I don’t want to be free from you.”_

_Harry’s eyes were wide, and Louis could see the tears welling up, and he felt like he could hardly breath. Waiting for Harry to say something was going to kill him, he was certain of it.  He laughed nervously, “Say something?  Please?” He asked.  He wiped a tear from the corner of his own eye while the other hand still held the ring between them.  “I can’t breathe, Harold.  Say something,” he begged._

_“Lou,” Harry said, finally.  He closed his mouth, then opened it again, but he didn’t say anything.  He took Louis’ face in his hands, wiping away the tears that were now falling freely down Louis’ face.  “Don’t,” he said, laughing, and wiping his own tears on his sleeves.  “Yes, Lou.  Of course, yes.”_

_****_

“Harry?”  Louis called into the house.  The alarm pad beeped at him in response, and he tapped the code in quickly.  The house seemed eerily untouched.  He was used to it being different:  comfortable, lived in.  Even if they’d only be here a few hours there were cups in the sink and food wrappers on the counter; clothes tossed over chairs and shoes left in walkways.   He was trying to formulate a plan as he walked up the stairs towards the bedrooms.  He needed to speak to Harry.  He needed to get Harry apart and alone so that there was nothing to distract either of them.  He didn’t know which way this thing was going, but it had to go one way or the other, and after hearing what Harry had said in that conference room, he was had no doubt that it needed to be dealt with.  Soon.  

He wandered into their bedroom; it was almost as spotless as the rest of the house, but for a box sitting in the middle of the bed, and a woman’s silk dress draped over the chair.  The dress was a reminder that this was no longer his room, just Harry’s, and perhaps someone else’s.  The box was out of place in the pristine room, the top tossed aside and the contents disheveled.  There were keycards to hotel rooms in a pile on the bed, a few ticket stubs.   It felt as though he was intruding on a private moment, but he couldn’t help but examine them.  He could pin a memory to each and every piece.  He peered into the box then, his curiosity piqued, and noticed a familiar mug in it.  His mug.  There were several other things in the box as well, all of which had significance to him, and a feeling welled up inside of him that was happy and sad, bittersweet and melancholy.   These are the things their life together was made of, not all of the other things that had happened in between.  He replaced the items that had been left out and pulled out a set of keys attached to a Rovers key chain just as he heard footsteps in the hall; he shoved them into his pocket just as Celeste walked into the room.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, her eyes landing on the box in his lap.

“What are you doing here?”  

“I forgot something,” she said.  He noticed the way her eyes traveled across the room searching for the mysterious thing that she forgot.  It was fairly obvious that she had meant the box, and Louis grasped it possessively.  The things inside would mean little to an outsider, but they were still quite personal, and none of her business.  “My dress,” she said, walking with sudden purpose to the chair.  

“Ah,” he said, not believing her for one minute.

“Where’s Harry?”

“He’ll be along in a bit,” Louis told her, though he wasn’t certain that that was true.  He had no idea where Harry might be.  He stood up and walked into the closet, thinking to stash the box, but he saw a duffel bag sitting there instead, and pulled it out.  He put the box in the bottom of the bag, before pulling a few things of Harry’s off of hangers and stuffing them into the bag.  He came out of the closet to find her staring at him curiously.  

“What are you doing?”

“Packing,” he said.  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Odd for you to come into Harry’s house and pack a bag, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t very odd to him, no, but he could imagine how it might seem to someone else.  “We’ve had a hectic day.  Harry is running late, and we’re leaving town.  I told him I’d stop by to get some of his things.”  

“Oh,” she said.  

He ignored her, and walked to his own dresser, wondering what he’d find there; if Harry had gotten rid of all of his things, if he’d find the drawers empty.  He hoped not.  They didn’t have much time, and considering how things were going, he’d have to abandon his own hotel room.  He’d send someone to get the important things, but for now he’d just need a change of clothes.  He took a deep breath as he opened the top drawer, and was taken aback at what he found.  

“I didn’t realize you were leaving this soon,” Celeste said in the background, but Louis didn’t pay her any attention.

There, sitting atop a pile of Louis’ shirts was the ring that he had given Harry that night in Jamaica.  

His heart sunk.  Louis, in all of the chaos of the last months, hadn’t noticed it had been missing.  Until recently, Harry hadn’t taken that ring off since the moment that Louis had given it to him.  It had always been there as a reminder of the promise between them, something pointing to the hope of a future they might one day have together, even if everything got muddied in between.  

It scared him that Harry had taken it off, and it scared him that he hadn’t noticed.

Winning Harry back seemed an even more desolate prospect now, but he felt a sliver of hope seeing that the ring, instead of being tossed aside haphazardly, had been placed carefully among Louis’ things, and that his things were still there when they could have been easily discarded. It had to mean something, and Louis was going to find out what.  

He continued to mumble responses at Celeste’s inane questions and concentrated on packing instead of worrying about what he might say to Harry.  He’d have to figure that out later.  For now, he just needed to get out of here, and he needed to get rid of Celeste before she was able to derail his plans.  

As if on cue, Louis was able to hear the unmistakable sound of Harry’s motorcycle pulling up to the house out side of the bedroom window overlooking the drive.  

“Come on,” he said, zippering the bag shut.  “He’s home, let’s go.”

 

Harry stopped just as Celeste and Lou walked out of the house, leaving the bike’s engine still running, and pulled off his helmet.  His hair was matted to his head, and his shirt was soaked.  He looked at Celeste, cut the engine and then looked at Lou.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, still straddling his bike.  He noticed the bag over Louis’ shoulder, and the distracted look on Celeste’s face.

“We’re leaving,” Louis said, walking towards Harry.  “Lock up, Harold.”

“But--” Harry started.  

“We’re going to miss our flight.”  Harry didn’t understand what Louis was talking about, but he kept his mouth shut.  

Celeste walked toward him.  She looked distracted and seemed rather aloof.  “I didn’t realize you were leaving already,” she said.  

“Well--,” Harry started.

“As I said, we have a plane to catch.  We’re going to be late, Harry.”  Harry looked so defeated and distracted that Louis didn’t think he’d put up much of a fight, but was concerned that Celeste might work to derail that.

“Harry?”  Celeste said, coming towards him.  “Are you okay?”

Harry shook his head.  He was not okay.  At All.  But he felt no inclination to talk to her.  

“It’s been a busy day, that’s all,” Louis interjected.  “Come on, let’s go.”

“I’m all wet,” Harry said meekly.  

“You can change in the car.  I packed your things.”  Harry just nodded, not having strength for arguments and explanations, and hung his head.  

“I’ll see you later,” he said to Celeste, not thinking to give her a hug or a kiss, and let Louis usher them both out of the garage and into the rain.  He waited until the garage slammed shut, and then climbed into Louis’ car where he held the door open for him.  Louis stuffed the bag into his lap, and walked around the other side.

Louis pulled away without saying a word, and Harry left it that way.   He thought to glance at Celeste in the rearview mirror, but the tint on Lou’s windows was so dark he could barely see her.

“Does Celeste have your alarm code?”

“No.  Why?”  

“Just wondering,” Louis said.  It unnerved him the way she had just shown up, and he was wondering if she would be able to get back in the house once they had left.  “Harry,” he said, glancing next to him.  

“What.”  

He wanted to bring up the ring, the box of things, the complete clusterfuck that this was turning into, but Harry seemed so crushed that he didn’t want to distress him any further.  Harry sat awkwardly, with the large bag in his lap, and stared out of the windshield, dazed.  At a red light, Louis unzipped the bag, and pulled out a t-shirt before stuffing the bag in the back seat.  “Change your shirt,” he ordered.  “You’re soaked through.”  Harry had taken to shivering, but pulled the shirt he was wearing over his head with one hand, and dropped it on the floor in a sopping heap.  Louis did his best to keep his eyes trained on the road, and turned on the heat.  

“Why’d you tell Celeste we were getting on a plane in a couple of hours?”

“Why didn’t you tell her we weren’t?”

The question didn’t need answering.  Harry leaned his head against the seat and closed his eyes.  He wanted to disappear, but sleep would have to do.

 

“We’re here,” Louis said, a hand on Harry’s arm, trying to nudge him gently out of his slumber.  Louis was exhausted, too; the day had been draining and the drive to the house was longer than he remembered.  Harry woke, used to having to be alert quickly, and stretched.  When he saw where they were, he felt nervous; this could be good, or this could be very bad, and he wasn’t sure what outcome he preferred.  

“What are we doing here?” he asked, stifling a yawn, trying to to appear nonchalant.

“What do you think?” Louis asked.  “Why don’t you go shower?  Are you hungry?  I’ll fix something,” he said.  

Harry did need a shower, and he was hungry.  He was anxious to forestall the inevitable, positive or not, and so he took the bag that Louis had packed and walked into the bedroom.  As he showered, he wavered somewhere between happy that this was coming to a head, and scared that it might actually be over.  He had said horrible things to Louis recently, had told him repeatedly that it was too late.  It wasn’t too late, though, not on Harry’s end.  It would never be too late.

“What are you wearing?”  Louis asked Harry, who walked into the room wearing a pair of sweatpants, and a purple silk shirt.  Harry had laughed when he had seen what Louis had packed, and hoped that his ensemble might lighten the mood.  It did.

“You’re the one who packed,” he told Louis, who was smiling as Harry pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside.  “Though, I’d rather not lounge around in that.  I think these are your sweats,” he said.  “They’re kind of short.”  Harry tugged up the waistband, revealing his ankles, then tugged them down again until they rested low on his hips.  

Louis looked away.  “I’m afraid the selection at the store wasn’t that great,” Louis said.  He pulled a frozen pizza out of the oven.  

“Where’d you get this,” Harry said, noticing the key chain sitting on the coffee table and picking it up.  

“I thought we could eat first,” Louis said.

“I’m not hungry after all,” Harry said.  “Where’d you get these keys?”  He hadn’t even noticed that Louis had used them to open the house.  He had forgotten that he’d never actually given a set of keys to Louis.  

“From there,” Louis said, pointing to the box next to the set of keys.  

“Where’d you get that?”  Of course Harry already knew.  He went on before Louis could answer.  “Do I not have any privacy anymore? Did you go through this?”

“Obviously,” Louis told him.  

“Is this just my life now?  Every single bit of me on display, for everyone who wants a part of me.”

“No.”  

Harry sat down heavily on the sofa.  “Nothing we have is sacred anymore, Lou.  Not a single thing.  Not you, not me.  Not us.  That meeting today---they know everything about us.”

“They know what we’ve told them,” Louis said.  

“They know everything.”  

“No, they don’t,” Louis assured him.  “They know what we’ve told them,” he repeated.  “Which, when it comes down to it, isn’t much, unless you think that the entirely of what we are was summed up in that one conversation.  Is that what you think?  Have you just discarded all of the good points and wrapped our entire relationship up into a few situations that had little to do with us?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Harry said.  

“Don’t you?  Why’d you keep those things in that box, Harry?  Those are the things that are ours, that no one will ever know about.”  Louis picked up the box and took the top of carefully.  “Do they know about this mug?  That it sat on a table on my side of the bed every night?  That you’d rinse it for me, and take it in the morning and make sure hot tea was in it when I’d wake up?”  He set the mug on the table, and reached for something else. He pulled out the key cards.  “Do they know what happened here, or here?  Or what about here?”  He set each one down separately.  

“Probably,” Harry said sullenly.  “It’s just a box of stuff, Louis.”

He pulled out a tattered concert bracelet.   “Do they know about that night?  Do they know that that was the first time you told me you loved me?  They way we touched each other, protected from the crowds of people by nothing but a canvas tent? ”

Harry reached out and fingered the bracelet.  It looked as if it might crumble into a million pieces and he thought he might, too.  

“What about this,” he asked, pulling a ring from his pocket it putting it down on the table.  The metal clanged loudly against the glass.  Harry felt Louis’ eyes on him as he stared at the ring.  “They don’t know about that, do they?  They don’t know the words I said to you, or the way you looked when you smiled and said yes.”

Harry picked up the ring, rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.  The metal was still warm from being in Louis’ pocket, but it was cooling as they spoke.  He knew that Louis wanted him to put it back on his finger, but he wasn’t going to do that, so he set it back down on the glass.  

“What can I do, to get you to see, Harry,” Louis said.  

“Nothing.  I can’t handle this,” Harry said.  “I don’t know what is real anymore.”

“This is real, Harry,” Louis told him.  “Not the stage, not the girls, not Richard or that room, or the rumors, or the fans.  This is real,” Louis said.  You and I, we’re real.”

“I’m tired of the games, Lou,” Harry said.  

“You’ve made that quite clear,” Louis said softly.  He tucked Harry’s hair behind his ear.

Harry shook his head, and the hair fell loose again.  “I feel like, when I lost you, I lost control.”

“You haven’t lost me, though, don’t you know that?”

“Haven’t I?”  Harry raised his eyes to meet Louis’ own.  

“No, you haven’t,” Louis assured him.  “If you’d lost me, would I be here now?  Would I be showing these things to you?  Would I be trying, desperately, to remind you of the promises we made to each other?”  

“Maybe the promises aren’t enough anymore,” Harry said.  

Louis leaned back into the sofa and sighed.  “I can’t account for why we ended up here, in this place.  I can’t go back and change the decisions that we were made, or the decisions we were pressured into making.  I can’t go back and tell you that I didn’t love Eleanor, the way you can’t tell me that you didn’t love Max.  We can’t erase those things, and maybe we’ve done a disservice to everyone involved by trying to ignore them.  Maybe it’s too late now, but what’s done is done.  And maybe it is for the best.  Maybe they’ve proven to us that we can live without each other.”

“Is that what you really think?  That we can live without each other?”  

“Of course I don’t.  But I’ve got to find a way to tell myself that, don’t I?”

“No,” Harry said.  “Not if you don’t want to.”  Harry looked at Louis to measure his reaction, and though Louis didn’t look at him right away, a small grin made its way to Louis lips.  “I know I’ve been horrible, Lou.  Verging on unforgivable, if not entirely so.  I wanted to mean everything I said, but I didn’t mean any of it.  I just feel like….  I don’t even know.”

“Is it that simple?” Louis asked.  

“We aren’t that lucky,” Harry said.

“But we are, Harry.  Look.  I know that you feel like I didn’t choose you, but I did, Harry.  I do choose you.  And maybe I didn’t do it right the first time, or the second or the third, or all the other times” he added with an embarrassed chuckle, “but I am here now, and I am choosing you.”

“I can’t go through something like this again,” Harry said.  

“If it is up to me, we won’t.”  

Harry’s heart was beating quickly.  This was all that he needed to hear, that Louis chose him, that Louis remembered.  Louis sat up and placed his hand over Harry’s heart.  The heat of his hand on his bare skin.  “Remember, Harry,” Louis said.  “We need to remember that this is what is real.  No matter what, this is what is real,” Louis said.  Harry sat stock still as his pulse raced.  Louis grinned, no doubt noticing.  “See?  That’s real.”  

“It’s settled, then,” Harry said quietly.  

“Not quite,” Louis said, standing and taking Harry’s hand to pull him up.  “But I do think it is time for bed,” he said, rather casually, Harry thought.  It wasn’t exactly how Harry had pictured the night ending.  “Come on, love,” Louis said, making his way toward the bedroom, turning off the lights as he went, leaving Harry to stand there in darkness.  Harry wondered if it could really be so simple, but he didn’t feel worried.  It felt different this time, final in a way that nothing else had in a very long time.  

And so, he followed Louis into the bedroom with no reluctance.

He let Louis kiss him, and he kissed him back with no hesitation.

He pulled Louis’ shirt over his head and touched him without pause.

He felt no questions nagging at the back of his head as he unbuttoned Louis’ pants, felt nothing but arousal and want and need, as he lay down beneath Louis.  

He had no what-ifs holding him back, no doubts as Louis hovered above him and looked into his eyes, and brushed his hair out of his face, and said, “You’re so beautiful, Harold, you know that?  I was such a fool--”  

Harry arched up into him, pressing his lips to his, swallowing Louis’ regrets.  There was no place for them here, not now.  Louis bit Harry’s lip playfully as he reached between them, stroking Harry with a feather light touch.  Harry closed his eyes and let his head drop back onto the bed in anticipation, waiting for Louis to claim him.  But his eyes shot open and he gasped in pleasured surprise as he felt Louis lower himself down onto Harry.  It wasn’t the way they usually did things, and Louis had a satisfied smirk on his face.  He bent over Harry, kissing him.  Harry could barely respond.  

“I’m yours,” Louis whispered in his ear.  He nudged Harry with his leg until Harry rolled him over and rose up above him. “Make no mistake about that, love.  I’m yours.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I've been remiss in adding notes here, but I just wanted to say thanks, as always, for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter because it is one of my favorites. 
> 
> My love and thanks to Dio, who is such a valuable partner in helping me organize my thoughts. I'm a little less of a mess with out you, Dio. Thank you so much!


	15. Chapter 15

Harry frowned at his phone and tossed it onto the seat across the small aisle.  

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he told Louis.  He leaned back and pressed his head into the seat, wishing that he and Louis could have more time alone before getting back to things.  

“Please try to relax,” Louis said quietly.  “We’ll get all of this sorted out.”

Harry wasn’t so sure.  “I think we should just keep this quiet for a bit.”

“Oh,” Louis said.  

Harry turned his head to look at Louis, who was looking out of the window as the plane ascended into the sky.  “Lou.  I’m not saying that I don’t want this,” he told him.  Harry did want this, more than anything.  But as much as he wanted it, he didn’t want to have to go through the same things over again.  He didn’t want to make up and break up and fight and hide.  He didn’t want to have to explain every action to a hundred different people.  He needed to be sure.  He reached out to put his hand on Louis’ knee, and noticed the way Louis glanced at his bare hand before looking at his face.  Harry knew that Louis, though he wouldn’t say it, was disappointed that he hadn’t put the ring back on his finger before they left this morning.  Harry had picked it up and put it in his pocket, but he just wasn’t ready.

“I’m just not ready…,” Harry said slowly.

Louis shifted his leg under Harry’s hand, but it only made Harry grip it harder.  “If you want to put things back the way they were before last night, Harry, just say so.”

“Is that what you think I’m saying?”

“I have no idea what you are trying to say,” Louis told him.  “You’re taking too fucking long to say it.”  Louis finished with a grin and it relieved Harry to see a smile on his face.

“The last thing I want to do is put things back to how they were.  It was bloody awful,” Harry told him.  “But, within the last week we were also declaring that we were entirely over.”

“To be fair, you were the one declaring that, not me.”

“I don’t want to argue,” Harry said, releasing his grip on Louis’ knee and letting his hand slide slowly up Louis’ leg, his long fingers caressing the inside of his thigh. 

“Easy there, Harold,” Louis cautioned.  Harry could tell he was trying not to squirm and it pleased him very much.  Of course, it wasn’t the only thing that pleased him.  He was happy to have Louis next to him.  He was glad that Louis had whisked him away last night, and that he had reminded him of the important things, the real things.  And that regardless of what had happened, Louis still wanted him.  

Louis still loving him was everything, and it made all of the other things drop away every time he thought of the night before.  Harry had missed their intimacy, their closeness.  It wasn’t even about the physical parts, though he’d take those too.  But it was the way they were able to talk to each other, snuggled under a down comforter in the chilly house, smiling and touching and whispering, though there was no one around to hear the words they said to each other.  

It was easy, of course, to have no worries in that situation, but in the light of day, it was harder for Harry to feel so certain.  That’s why he hadn’t put the ring back on; it was why he wasn’t ready to declare this matter settled and announce it to the world, not even their small circle.  He just wanted to be with Louis, alone, just the two of them, and not worry about what the next best step was.  

Harry sat forward and leaned toward Louis, his hand now resting several inches above Louis’ knee.  “Er, maybe not right now,” Louis whispered, cutting his eyes toward the other people in the small plane.  Most of them were sleeping or had ear buds in, hardly paying attention, and taking advantage of the flight to relax for a bit before having to go back on duty.  “Perhaps we should be more discreet given the current climate, Harry.”

“No one on this plane gives a shit,” he told Louis.  “None of them would say a thing.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Louis warned.  Harry pouted, but he knew that Louis was probably right.  “You are too trusting.  It is your most endearing trait, and also your most dangerous one.”

“Really?  Being too trusting is my most dangerous trait,” Harry said, inching his hand just a little higher, higher still, until Louis inhaled sharply and clapped his hand over Harry’s.  “Jesus,” Louis said, loudly enough that a few of their entourage glanced at him.  Harry laughed loudly, while Louis tried to smile at the curious onlookers.  When they seemed assured that all was well, he looked at Harry with narrowed eyes.  “That’s enough, Harold.  Hands off, until we land.”

Harry left his hand where it was for a few seconds, and then complied with Louis’ request.  “Fine,” he said.  

“Your phone is going off again,” Louis informed him.

“I’m ignoring it.”

“If you’re going to ignore it, can you put it on silent, at least?”

Harry reached to pick up the phone, and couldn’t help but sigh heavily at the list of missed calls and texts on the screen.  There were a couple of messages from Richard, whom he certainly didn’t feel like chatting with; a solitary message from Celeste; and several missed calls from Max. 

“Who wants to speak to you so badly, anyway,” Louis asked.  “Does Celeste miss you already?”

“No.  Just a message saying that she’ll be out of touch for a bit.”

“That seems strange.”

“Not really.  She drifts in and out,” Harry told him distractedly.  “Max keeps calling,” he said after a pause.  It wasn’t really a name he wanted to bring up at this moment, but…

“Swell,” Louis said, closing his eyes and letting his head bounce against the seat.  “Exactly how many loose ends do you need to tie up?”  

“Don’t get all pissy,” Harry said.  “I haven’t talked to or heard from Max since we ended it.”

“And now he is calling?”

“If I wanted to hide it from you, why would I be telling you now?”

“Then what does he want?”

“How should I know,” Harry said.  “That’s why I’m ignoring it.”  Louis hadn’t been there for the brief conversation Harry and Richard had had about Max.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to bring it up to Louis now, either.  So he didn’t.  He threw his phone down a bit more angrily than he meant to, and it bounced off the seat and onto the floor.  He wished he could hurl it through the window and into the sky; imagining it shatter into a billion pieces as it crashed to the ground after a thirty thousand foot fall made him feel moderately better.  

His moods were swinging violently and he didn’t like it at all.  It was unlike him.  Usually, he found one way to be and stuck with it for a while, whether it be happy, mad, sad, or indifferent.  He didn’t want to have to deal with all of this bullshit.  He didn’t want to have awkward conversations with publicists about all of his personal business.  He didn’t want to have to talk to Max and no doubt dredge up old wounds that had taken their own tolls in the healing process.  And Louis, always at the forefront of his mind….  He didn’t want to have to hide his relationship with Louis anymore, from anyone, least of all their friends, but he didn’t feel secure enough to tell them the truth and endure endless teasing and suspicions about when it would go south again.  He couldn’t quite let himself believe that it would be so simple, that they could just say their let’s-forget-about-the-pasts and their let’s-start-overs and their everything-will-be-different-this-times and make them come true, as opposed to all of the other times that didn’t work out.  As much as he reminded himself that this time really was different, that they were taking steps that they had never taken before, that they were removing obstacles instead of creating them, well, he was scared.

He didn’t like feeling insecure, like he was in some sort of fragile bubble that was about to burst, sending him crashing to the ground unprotected.  He had never felt so threatened before in all of his life.

“Hey,” Louis said softly beside him.  “Stop thinking so much, love.” He brushed Harry’s bare arm gently with his thumb and it made Harry shiver. 

“Tell me it is different this time,” Harry whispered, his voice shaking. “Promise.”  

“I promise.  I promise,” Louis said, leaning close to Harry to be sure no one would overhear.  “I meant what I said last night, Harry, and I meant the things I did.  All of it.  I am yours, and nothing will change that now.  Nothing.  I promise.”

****

_“Thank you,” Harry said quietly as he lay face to face with Louis.  The house was chilly; they hadn’t thought to turn on the heat when they arrived, so they were cocooned together under a barely used down comforter.  It tickled Harry’s nose, and Louis made a mental note to have it switched out before they returned._

_“For?” Louis felt sleepy and sated as he traced the outline of Harry’s bicep with his finger._

_“Saving me from myself,” Harry said, chuckling._

_“We’re quite a mess, aren’t we, darling?” Louis’ finger traveled down Harry’s arm, and back up his stomach, bumping along the ridges there,_ bump, bump, bump, _he thought, as his finger met pec and he flattened his hand over Harry’s heart, as was his habit.  He liked to measure Harry’s pulse.  He liked to feel Harry’s excitement, but right now, Harry’s heart was calm.  Louis smiled.  “To be fair, I’m the reason you needed saving in the first place.  Again.”_

_“It was an unfair ultimatum,” Harry said.  “At an unfair time.”_

_“I certainly felt that way then,” Louis said.  “But I should have taken you more seriously.  And it was a long time coming, for both of us.”_

_“I had just thought...it felt like we were on a different path.  Like we were making a home together, that we had a plan.  It felt like we were headed in the right direction, for once, and it all came to a screeching halt.  It felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach.  It felt like someone kept knocking the breath out of me, over and over again.”_

_“I’m so sorry,” Louis whispered.  “I’m sorry,” he said again, taking his hand from Harry’s heart and pushing his hair out of his face.  “Look at me.”  He waited for Harry to turn his eyes toward him.  “I am so sorry, and I will never, ever, do something like that again.”  He saw the way Harry’s glance flickered away quickly, then back again, unsure of where to land.  As if he was trying to protect Louis from having to lie to his face.  “I’m not lying,” he insisted.  “I’m done with all of it.  All of it.  Everything, but you.”_

_“So, just like that, all is forgiven and we continue on as if nothing has happened?”_

_“Would you prefer to hold grudges?  We can hate each other for all of eternity for all the things we’ve done as young and stupid boys?”_

_“No. But…”_

_“What can I say, Harry?  Neither of us knew what we were doing, that things would end up this way, with our lives, our careers.  Each other, most importantly.  I didn’t know that seeing Eleanor that morning would send you spiraling away from me.  I didn’t think it would be any different than any other time.”_

_“And now?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“What’s changed?”_

_“I have.”_

_“So what?  We are going to ride off into the sunset together?  I hardly think that is wise.”_

_“I don’t know, maybe?”_

_“Yeah, right.”  The thought of that, right now, made Harry laugh as he rolled onto his back._

_“We can drag this out if you want to.  We can fight and argue and pretend some more, that this right here isn’t what we want, but what’s the point?  Let’s just lay it all out.”_

_“Lay it out then,” Harry said._

_“Fine.  This is what I want.  I want this.  I want you.  I want to be your only, and I’ll be yours.  No more girls, no more ‘outlets’, no more beards, no more made up dates with girls we’ll never see again.”_

_“What will people say, Louis?”_

_“Who cares?  I don’t care what they say anymore.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Because it doesn’t seem like the most important thing anymore.  I’m not saying that I want to go to the nearest reporter and tell them all of our secrets,” he told Harry.  “I’m not sure I can do that.  If that’s something you need then….”_

_“No,” Harry said, turning to Louis.  “No.”_

_“I have no regrets about breaking it off with Eleanor, Harry.  None, whatsoever, I hope you know that.”_

_“Do we have to talk about her?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Harry groaned and buried his head under the comforter before Louis tugged it away._

_“It’ll be quick, I promise.  I know what I said to you.  I know that I told you that I loved her.  It wasn’t a lie.  But, it wasn’t entirely the truth, I realized.  She was comfortable for me, Harry.  She was easy.  It made me feel safe, like I didn’t have to worry about anything.  I could hide behind her, and do what I liked in the meantime.”_

_“Like me.”_

_“No.  You aren’t just something I do.  You are what I am.  What we have together make me who I am.  I realize that now.”_

_“But you didn’t feel safe enough with me.”_

_“Of course not.  Being with you scares me shitless every day.  The way it felt to lose you, Harry?  It was the worst thing in the world.  Barring all of the other obstacles we’ll have to face, the thought of you not loving me was, still is, the most unbearable thing in the world.  And honestly, as much as I hated you for it, this is the best thing that could have happened.”_

_“You can’t be serious.”_

_“I am.  I would like to say that I’m better than that, but I’m not.  The fact is, if I hadn’t had to learn the hard way what it was like to really lose you, then I never would have had the courage to do this now.”_

_“You act as though this hasn’t happened a dozen times before.”_

_“Has it?  I know we’ve both had our moments, but when is the last time either of us actually meant it?”_

_“Never,” Harry whispered._

_“Never, until now,” Louis said._

_“Never,” Harry said again.  “I never meant it.  I wanted to, but do you know how hard it was for me to hate you?  How hard it was for me to not call you?”_

_“You seemed to recover so quickly,” Louis told him._

_“I didn’t.  I was trying.  It wasn’t working.  I was just doing everything I could to keep myself from going back to you.”_

_“God we’re idiots.”_

_“Truer words….”_

_They were both quiet then, ruminating on the last months, the steps and missteps.  Harry focused on the ceiling, and Louis rolled onto his stomach, draping an arm around Harry’s chest.  “Harry.”_

_“Hmm?”  Harry’s eyes fell on Louis’ face, his chin resting on his chest._

_“I didn’t know how bad it was for you.”_

_Harry frowned._

_“Everyone around me was realizing so many things, and all I was doing was running away.  But that night at the bar, when you were so angry at me?  That scared me more than all of the other things.  I sat in that bar, wondering what I was really after, what really mattered to me.  I laid awake all night long, feeling you around me, and wondering what the fuck I had risked you for.  And I couldn’t figure it out.  It didn’t make sense anymore, to be afraid to love you, to be with you.  And hearing what you said in that meeting yesterday, what you thought of me, it killed me, and I knew that I had to make this right or end it entirely.”_

_“So what do we do now?”_

_“Try again, I guess.”_

_“I’m tired of trying.  I don’t want to try anymore.  I want to either do this, or not.  Either we are both in, all, entirely, completely, or it can’t happen.”_

_“I agree.  All, entirely, completely.”_

_“What if I don’t believe you.”_

_“If you don’t trust me, then….”_

_Harry took Louis’ hand in his face.  “I trust you.  I trust that you love me, and that you mean what you say….”_

_“But?”_

_“It’s more complicated than that, isn’t it?”_

_“I don’t know,” Louis answered.  “When it is just us, like this, it isn’t complicated at all, as I see it.  Are we supposed to give this up to protect some made up bullshit that sells concert tickets?  Are we supposed to risk this every day so that people don’t talk badly about us, so that people will buy our music, pay our bills?  Is that what we really want our lives to be?  Aren’t we too young to be so jaded?”_

_“I just….”_

_“What?  Need time?  Need my actions to speak louder than these words?  I’m prepared to do that, Harry.  I just need you to give me a chance.”_

  
****

“Why are we here,” Louis said into Harry’s ear.  They were standing in a corner of a club celebrating yet another something that Louis couldn’t keep straight.  They had gone from the plane to recording to sound check to stage without having a break, and now they were at some party for someone on the crew that Louis didn’t even know.  Of course he wanted the crew to know that they were appreciated, but it was starting to be a constant occurrence, and tonight, of all nights, he just wanted to go back to his hotel room, wherever that might be, with Harry.

“I didn’t pay attention.”

“No?  That’s unlike you.”  Harry was always in tune with everything and everyone around him; it surprised Louis that he didn’t actually know why they were here.   

“I've been distracted, but I’m sure whoever it is is really lovely,” Harry said.  

“I’m sure,” Louis said.

“It’s good to put in an appearance,” Harry told him.  “I know you didn’t want to come, but it’s important to show our faces,” Harry said.

“Oh, I want to come alright,” Louis said gruffly.  He leaned into Harry so that the lengths of their arms were touching, before flattening his hand against Harry’s thigh.  

“You don’t let me touch you on a plane with four other people, who know everything about us, but you’re ready to go, here, in front of a hundred strangers?”

“No one can see us,” Louis told him.  “We’re here,” he continued, draping his arm around Harry’s shoulders, “alone, while everyone else is out there on the dance floor,” he continued, turning his body so that he could slip his other hand into Harry’s barely buttoned shirt.  “It is dark,” he added, his fingertips brushing against Harry’s nipple, making Harry shiver though he was trying hard to remain stock still.  “No one is paying attention to us, at all.”  

Harry felt the flick of Louis’ tongue against his neck as Louis nudged his thigh between Harry’s legs.  He grabbed the waistband of Louis’ pants and tugged roughly, not bothering to glance around as his lips met Louis’.  

It was exhilarating, doing this here, where anyone could catch them.  Harry reveled in the feeling for a few moments, tasting the drink on Louis’ tongue, feeling his days-old stubble scratch his chin.  He wondered if it would always feel this way, if it would feel this way when the day came where they were no longer hiding and sneaking around, if all of the fun would be gone.  “Let’s not do that here,” he said, stepping out of Louis’ reach.  Louis wasn’t having it though; he stepped back into Harry’s space; he ran a finger from Harry’s neck, down his chest to the single button he had done, and flicked it open easily.

Harry smirked.  “Lou,” he warned, putting his own hand over Louis’ and holding it there before he did anymore damage.

“Ah, come on,” Louis said.  “If we have to be here, let’s just make the most of it.”

“Lou, we can hardly...”  

“Hardly what?”  Louis tugged his hand free and slid it down to Harry’s belt.  “I’ve missed you,” he said playfully.  Then, more seriously, he added, “and now, all I want to do is go somewhere alone with you, and do mundane things with you, like play some video games, have a cup of tea, order room service.  But we are here, at this thing I don’t want to be at, and I’ve had a few drinks, and you look absolutely divine.  And having to be on that stage with you, in the studio with you, pretending that we are nothing, when it is the complete opposite of that, is killing me.  I’ve just gotten you back, and I can’t even touch you.  But, if you want me to leave you alone….” He let go and dropped his hand to his side.  “I’ll just go get another drink.”  He backed away from Harry, but Harry reached out and grabbed his hand, twining his fingers with Louis’ own.  

“Do you really not care?”

Louis shrugged.  “Not really.”  

Harry tugged him closer.  “You really don’t mind,” he said, bending slightly and kissing Louis and pulling his lip between his teeth, biting it just enough to make Louis want more, before letting go, “that someone might see us,” he continued, wrapping his arm around Louis back, “doing this?”  Harry’s strong arm pressed Louis’ body close.  Louis shook his head.  “What about this,” Harry said, unbuttoning Louis’ pants.  “What if I just got down on my knees, right here, in plain view, where anyone could walk in, at any moment?  Hmm?”  He started to slip his hand down Louis’ pants, before Louis moaned and pushed away from him.

“Okay,” he said.  “Too far, there.”  He cleared his throat.  

Harry bit his lip and smiled.  “That’s what I thought.  I guess you’ll have to wait.”

“Like hell, I have to wait,” Louis said.  He grabbed Harry’s arm and strode quickly to the private bathroom.  Harry walked in, and turned to face Louis.  

It was much brighter in the bathroom; not glaringly so, but enough that they could see each other clearly.  Louis’ face was flushed.  “There’s no lock,” he said.  

Harry shrugged.  “Just lean against it then,” he said, closing the short distance between them in half a step.  He pressed his body against Louis’ so that they were pressing their combined weight against the door, ensuring no one could just walk in.  

Harry braced his hands against the door, on either side of Louis’ head, and kissed him.  Louis ran his hands inside Harry’s shirt, across his stomach, around his hips, up his muscled back.  It was a lazy kiss, slow and sure; Louis arched off of the door and into Harry, who giggled against Louis’ mouth as his fingers tickled Harry’s sides.

“What are you doing,” Harry said.

“Trying to distract you,” Louis said.

“It isn’t working.”  Harry slipped a hand between them, into Louis’ jeans, surprised to find he was wearing nothing underneath.  He exhaled roughly into Louis’ shoulder and tugged his pants just past his hips.  He slid slowly down the length of Louis’ body, until he was eye-level with his already hard cock.  

Harry took much satisfaction in the sound of Louis groan, knowing he was trapped between the cold hard door and Harry’s hot, soft mouth.  

Before Harry could finish, Louis reached down, lightly tugging on Harry’s hair to pull him up.  He licked his lips, and pressed them against Harry’s, taking Harry into his hand as he did so.  His touch was just a barely-there caress, but it made Harry gasp against his mouth all the same.  “Come with me,” Louis murmured into Harry’s hair as they stroked each other, mimicking each others' movements, soft but strong, more controlled than usual; gentle and teasing, but just the right amount of pressure.  And come together they did, their heads buried in each others’ necks and using the door as leverage for their weak knees, breathless and panting.  Sticky and sweaty as they separated, they kissed again, relaxed, relieved.  Satisfied.  

They had hardly recovered when they were startled by a series of loud bangs.  “Open up!”  It was unmistakably Niall, and Harry leaned his weight into the door as they both erupted into fits of giggles against each other.  

“I gotta wee!” Niall shouted.  

“Now what,” Louis said.

“We can’t just stay here forever.” Harry shook with laughter while he kept his hands braced against the door.  Louis did up Harry’s pants before buttoning his own, shaking his head at Niall’s barrage of profanity on the other side of the door.  He reached around Harry to the automatic towel dispenser and mopped them both off as best he could with the dry paper.  

“It’ll have to do,” he said with an amused shrug.  

“O. Pen. Up.”  Niall banged again.  “I’m gonna piss myself.”  

Louis looked at Harry.  “On the count of three,” he said.  “One, two…” On three, they both jumped away from the door, and Niall came tumbling through, almost falling to the floor.

“What the fucking hell,” he said.  “Why’d you lock me out.”

“We didn’t, Niall,” Harry said.

“There’s no lock on the door.”

“Get out my way,” he said.  “It’s an emergency.”

“Surely there’s another loo,” Louis said.

“Not without a ridiculous line,” Niall told him.  

Louis and Harry made eye contact and began laughing again.  

“What’s so funny?!”

“Nothing,” Louis said.  “Nothing at all.”

“Let’s go, and leave Niall to it.”  

Harry felt happy, ecstatic, in fact.  He and Louis decided to leave, anxious to go home and shower, rest, relax, before they had to do their jobs the next day.  They made their way easily from club to car to hotel, no one around to catch them with their stubble burned cheeks, their disheveled hair.  

“We walked out of there without even thinking,” Harry pointed out once they were safely on their way to the hotel.  

“I thought about it.”

“Anyone could have been out here.  We hardly ever leave together, we’re hardly ever seen together.  Do you know how much a frenzy that would have caused?”

Louis shrugged.  “Are you worried for yourself, or are you worried for me?  Because, if it is the latter, don’t.”

“I’m worried for us.  What it means for us.”

“Here’s the thing, Harry.  Hiding it wasn’t working for us, was it?  I’m not sure that announcing it to the world will work for us either.  So, let’s just do what we want, stop making it into such a big deal either way.  If we’ve gotten through the last 5 years trying to stay apart, we can probably get through the next 50 if we stay together.  So stop.  Let’s just go home, take a shower, and do what we please until we have to be somewhere tomorrow.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Dio, as usual. Especially for holding my hand through the more...er...delicate parts. xx


	16. Chapter 16

_We have a problem._

Harry and Louis had both received identical messages from Richard.  Seconds later, an image came through.  It was grainy, dark, hard to make out to someone who didn’t know.  But they knew.  They both stared at it, mouths agape.  

The two of them.

Together.

Two nights ago, in a club, where they thought no one would see.  

Their faces were close together.  They couldn’t tell at what moment it had occurred.  Louis guessed it was right before they had gone into the bathroom.

“Fuck me,” Louis said, dropping the phone.  It started ringing as soon as it hit the bed.

“Gonna get that?” Harry said flatly.  

“No.”

“This shot is too hard to make out,” Harry said.  “I mean, I know what was going on, but no one else can tell.”

“That isn’t really the problem.”

Harry’s phone started buzzing before Louis could elaborate.  He held up the phone to show Louis that Eleanor was calling.  “Why is she calling me?”

“Because I didn’t answer?  How should I know?”

“No way am I answering it.”

Another text came through from Richard: _Any comment?_

“What do we do?”

“The same thing we’ve always done?”

“Ignore it?”

“Who can prove it is us?  Shit, there’s another one.”  Harry held the phone to Louis, who was again seeing the same image on his screen.  This one was of them standing next to each other, laughing as they had exited the bathroom.  It was definitely clearer than the first, though less compromising.  “It isn’t so bad though.  But you can definitely see that it is us.”

“It’s not about proving it is us,” Louis tried to say again.  

“Maybe--,” Harry cut off as both of their phones started ringing, the tones clashing in an annoying cacophony.  They both looked at their screens and then at each other.  Harry decided to decline the call from Max, again.  Louis declined his from Eleanor as well, took both of the phones and silenced them.  

“I just need a minute of silence.  All of these assholes can wait.”  He leaned over his lap and brought his head to his hands.  

Harry waited for a few moments, watching Louis worriedly.  

“Lou, the photos...they aren’t very clear.  People will believe what they want anyway.  We’ll just ignore them.”

Louis turned to look at Harry.  “I don’t care about that.  I’m surprised you are.”

“Only because….”

“Because you think I’ll back out on this?  I’m not going to.  I don’t care about the pictures.  I care about who took them.  Did Richard say where they are?  Where they came from?”

Harry picked up his phone that hadn’t stopped vibrating.  He shot off a quick text to Richard, and then checked his missed calls, as Max’s name lit up the screen again.  “Fuck.”

“Answer it, Harry.  Just answer it.”

“Hello?”

“Harry?  It’s Max.”  Harry looked over to where Louis was sitting.  He didn’t look pleased.  He looked as though he might throw something.  Harry hadn’t wanted to take this call; certainly not while Louis was there to listen.

“Hi Max.”

“Harry.” Max said.  “I was beginning to think you’d never answer.  It is good to hear your voice.”

“Max--”

“I know.  Sorry.  Um.  As much as I wish we were reuniting over something more pleasant, I’m afraid that isn’t the case.”

“What are you talking about?”

Max sighed on the other end of the call.  “This is...incredibly awkward, Harry.”

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, gaining an eye roll from Louis.  

“I’m going to shower,” Louis said, standing to leave the room.

“Max, I’m sorry, but I don’t have much time,” Harry said.  He wanted to hurry this conversation along.  Hearing Max voice made him feel a certain way, and he didn’t like it.  It dredged up too many things he needed to forget.

“I know.  I know you’re so busy.  I’ll get to my point.  I wanted to discuss this in person, but I realized that wouldn’t be the best idea.”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

“Not because--Look.  Someone knows about us.  You and me,” he clarified.  “Our relationship.”

“I think it’s just a bunch of shit.  There’s no real proof.  One photo from a long time ago.”  Harry had already heard all of this from Richard, and it didn’t come as a surprise.

“Man.  I’m not going to say that doesn’t feel like a punch to the gut, hearing you sum us up in those three sentences.”

“Max, listen.  I’m sorry.”  Harry glanced at the closed door, where he could hear the shower running.  “I know that I ended things...abruptly, but I can’t do this.  I had my reasons.”

“Reasons you never gave me, Harry.  I thought we were so happy and then one day, you just decide that it’s done.  No warning.  No excuses.”

“I know.  I wish I could have been more….”

“Honest?”

“I couldn’t be.”

“I see you with all of these girls now, and I wonder...was I just some diversion?  Something to try?”

“No, Max.  Never.”

“It feels that way, Harry.  I never expected that we’d ever walk down the street holding hands, but the fact that you completely--”

“Max, there was someone else,” Harry interrupted.  “I couldn’t tell you.”

“Ah.  So, my suspicions were accurate.  And can you tell me now?”

“What would be the point in that?”

“Because it’s over?”

“No.  It’s not over.  Max, this isn’t about you.  You and I should never have happened.”

“Well, that’s nice to hear.”

“I don’t mean that I didn’t…”

“Love me?” Max said quietly.  

“Fuck,” Harry said under his breath.  “I don’t want to do this.”

“You think I do?  It took a long time for me to get over you.  I can’t even find it in me to lie about that, Harry.  And I finally did.  I finally decided to write you off as an entitled asshole who was just having his fun wherever he could find it.”

“I deserve that I suppose.”

“No you don’t.  But it was the only thing that worked.  I just avoided the right places, stopped talking to the wrong people, avoided any mention of you, and I got over it.  But then these calls started coming, and this guy showed up to my office.  I’ve been bombarded, and it has brought it all back to the forefront.”

“What do you mean?  Calls?  What guy?”  

“Someone is looking for information, Harry.  Someone found something out, and they must think they have the biggest scoop of the century, that the world’s most eligible bachelor is...well...likes bachelor's himself.”

He didn’t realize Max had been hounded by reporters.  He had thought it was one harmless tabloid piece.  Hearing this come from Max’s mouth, combined with the flood of emotions he hadn’t expected to feel, made his stomach flip and flop, as if he was on some horrible carnival ride.   “You didn’t...did you say anything?  Did you talk to these people?”

“Of course not,” he said.  “It isn’t something I’m interested in having plastered all over the world, and I assume it will be a pretty major deal.”

“If you want--” _What?_  Harry thought.  Was he about to offer Max money?  Some sort of bribe to keep him quiet?  Is this what his world had come to?

“Want what, Harry?  There’s only one thing I’d take out of the deal, and I don’t want it this way.  I just wanted to let you know.  The calls have been pretty persistent.  I didn’t get a look at whoever showed up here because reception turned him away.  And the thing is--I’d rather not have this on the front page of every entertainment magazine for everyone to speculate on.  I kept what we had between us, as you asked.  I don’t want to relive it all with every person I meet.  I don’t want to be the guy that Harry Styles dumped.”

“I’m sorry Max.  I’m so sorry, for all of this.  If I had ever thought that you would get wrapped up in this, this way, I never would have….”

“Ah, come on, don’t say that.  I don’t regret it, Harry.  I wish it had gone differently.  But I don’t regret it.”

“I’m sorry, Max,” Harry said again.  

“So am I Harry.  I just...I wanted you to know that people are poking around, being pretty persistent.  So it wouldn’t come as a surprise to you.  I still…wish things had gone differently,” he said quietly into the phone.  I’ve got to go now, Harry.  It was good to hear your voice.  Goodbye.”  

Harry stared at the phone, unsure about how to feel, unsure about what had transpired.  Afraid of what was happening.

 

Harry knocked on the bathroom door before coming in.  Louis could have been out of the shower a long time ago but he had stayed there while his boyfriend was on the phone with another man, a man that he had loved, letting the water pummel him from all directions, wishing this was not his life right now.  Sometimes, it didn't feel like such a big deal.  It shouldn’t be a big deal.  It shouldn’t be hidden, it shouldn’t matter who he loved, or when, or why, or how.  

But other times, it did.  Other times, it felt like a crushing weight, like it was something he had to prove or disprove, like something he had to uphold.  He didn’t want to be an issue or a symbol or a role model.

He rubbed the fog away from the glass and looked at Harry as he stood in the middle of the room.  He was staring at the floor, his shoulders slumped as he stepped out of his pants.  It broke Louis’ heart to see him that way, and at the same time, it struck a sort of fear in him that one brief conversation with Max would do this to him.  

“Is everything alright,” he said as he stood at the edge of the shower.

Harry shook his head slowly.  “I’m so tired,” he said weakly as he walked toward Louis.  “I don’t feel like doing any of this,” he said.  

Louis stood there and let Harry walk toward him.  He wrapped his arms around Harry, as Harry bent his head to Lou’s shoulder and he held him as he cried.  

  
****

_"We can’t do this anymore,” Louis said to Harry._

_Harry, expecting this, said nothing._

_“You have to stop.”_

_Harry said nothing._

_“You have to be more careful.”_

_Harry said nothing._

_Harry looked out of the window._

_Harry folded and unfolded his hands._

_“We can’t take these risks.”_

_Harry bit his lip until it bled._

_But Harry said nothing._

_He knew how this would go._

_“They know too much.”_

_How it always went._

_“We’ve been too obvious.”_

_How it would go on, forever and forever._

_More or less._

_Sometimes, it was worse than others._

_Sometimes, Louis was sweet and apologetic._

_“I’ve had enough.”_

_This wasn’t one of those times._

_“Are you even listening to me?”_

_Harry looked at the floor._

_He ran his fingers through his short hair._

_“The looks, the touching, the teasing.  It’s too much.”_

_He could feel the heat of Louis’ body beside him._

_He could feel the burn of anger stinging in his eyes._

_“They pull it all apart.  Every bit of it.”_

_Harry’s legs felt heavy._

_He wanted to leave._

_He couldn’t._

_“It’s getting worse.”_

_Harry said nothing._

_He rubbed his hand over his face._

_“You’re getting worse.”_

_Harry didn’t feel inclined to defend himself._

_So he didn’t._

_He watched the way the lights of the city twinkled against the midnight sky._

_“Are you doing it on purpose?”_

_He didn’t know._

_“Are you trying to prove a point?”_

_He wasn’t._

_“Trying to be clever?”_

_Not really._

_“Trying to make me angry?”_

_No._

_“If that’s it, you’ve succeeded.”_

_That was quite obvious._

_“Goddammit!  Say something!”_

_Harry couldn’t help it._

_He wasn’t good at hiding his emotions._

_He wasn’t good at staying away._

_He wasn’t good at pretending to hate Louis when all he had were overwhelming feelings of needing him._

_He had tried.  He had put in a good effort._

_At least he had thought he had._

_There was this part of him, though, this part that just couldn’t help but be rebellious.  Couldn’t help but push the envelope, give people something to talk about._

_It used to be that Louis could find the humor in it, too._

_“It isn’t funny anymore, Harry.”_

_Apparently not._

_“It’s gotten too serious now.  The stakes are too high.”_

_Harry wasn’t sure which stakes he meant, but he still said nothing._

_“You can sit there, Harry,” Louis said, “and remain dramatically silent all you want.  It doesn’t change the truth.  It doesn’t change the fact that you are reckless when it comes to us.  It doesn’t change the fact that for all of the work that we put into keeping our private life private, you are flaunting it for the world to see.  You cannot sing to me on stage.  You cannot tease interviewers when they ask questions about us.  You cannot--”_

_“Why don’t you give me a list of things I_ can _do.  Seems that would be shorter.”  Harry turned his head just in time to see Louis rolling his eyes._

_“Here we go,” Louis said._

_“No?  You don’t want to give me the list?  I’ll make my own.  I think I know it well enough by now.  One.  Acknowledgement in public is expressly forbidden save for the times that are a: absolutely unavoidable; b: explicitly sanctioned by one Louis Tomlinson; or c: by written consent of management.”_

_“Come on.”_

_“Two.  Touching in public is not allowed at all, period, end of story, including, but not limited to, saving the recipient from getting hit by a bus.  Catastrophic accident is preferable to random acts of intimacy.”_

_“Jesus, Harry.”_

_“Wait, we’re just getting to the good parts.  You’ll want to hear three and four.  You might want to get a lawyer in here.  So that you can get it set in stone.”_

_“You sound like an asshole.”_

_“You actually are one.”_

_“Look--”_

_“I’m not done.  We’re on to item three.  Fucking.  Fucking is allowed behind closed doors, including, but not limited to, abandoned studios, locked dressing rooms, foreign hotel rooms, and occasional tour busses.  Some call it seedy, some call it sexy.  Satisfaction may vary.  Fucking on home turf must be carefully planned, but is generally advised against.  Arrivals and departures must be well orchestrated so as to avoid public speculation.  Spending the night is highly discouraged._

_“And four.  Four is the most important.  Love:  Any mention herein must be made after dark, alone, where no one can see.  Any allusion to love, platonic or otherwise, is expressly forbidden.  Main goal of said stipulation is to appear that Misters Styles and Tomlinson actively dislike each other, if not outright hate each other.”_

_“Now you’re being ridiculous.”_

_“HA!  Am I?  You had no complaints this afternoon when I was sucking your dick in the dressing room.  But you find out that I made one statement to one dj that of course we are friendly, and you flip out.”_

_“Harry.”_

_“What about last week?  I’m good enough for pizza at midnight and a fuck in the shower, but god forbid you accept an invitation to a real dinner at a real restaurant where real people might notice that we were having a friendly  meal together.  I’m not even asking for romance for fuck’s sake.”_

_“Harry.”_

_“You act like I can’t control myself.  You act like I’m just pushing you and pushing you until you give into me.  Like I can’t respect the position you are in.  But where is the respect for my position?  Where’s the acknowledgement that half the time I feel like a dirty little secret who isn’t good enough. We can’t even be friends!”_

_“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you….”_

_“There is no magic number, Louis.  There is no magic point at which I will feel differently than I feel now.  As long as things go this way, there is no telling me enough times that you love me, that the rest doesn’t matter, that you are scared.  I understand those things.  I cannot forget those things.  But I am like a powder keg, about to burst sometimes, and when you want to scold me like some silly child for a few things that I’ve said or done because you are paranoid….”_

_"Harry.”_

_“I cannot control the minds of millions of people.  They believe what they want to believe.  Some believe that we are married.  Fucking married!  Who ever gave them that idea?  I don’t even know.  Do you understand there is nothing, NOTHING, that you or I say or do that will change what individual people think?  Wait.  I’m wrong there.  You’re quite good at that, actually.  Some of them believe that we hate each other, which is all your doing.  So, congratulations for that.  You’ve accomplished something at least.  That feels really fucking good.  To have to hear all the time about how much you and I dislike each other.  And to be honest, the more I hear it, the more I start to fucking believe it.”_

_“Harry!”_

_“I mean, what boy doesn’t want to make out with his boyfriend five minutes before having to deny that they even spend time together when they aren’t at work?!  It’s an absolute dream come true.”_

_“HARRY!”_

_“WHAT!_

_“Stop.  Just stop it.  You’re being hateful.”_

_Harry said nothing._

_He was out of words._

_He was out of feelings._

_“You are being unfair, too.  This is how things are.”_

_He was right._

_“This is how it is.”_

_Harry registered the pain in Louis’ voice, but he didn’t acknowledge it._

_“The recklessness has to stop, or we do.  I’d rather the former.  But if this is too hard for you, if you can’t stop your little rebellions, then….”_

_Harry said nothing._

_"You can be angry all you want.  But you've messed up.  Don't take that out on me.  It was more than one innocent comment and you know it."_

_Harry remained silent, unwilling to admit the truth in Louis' words._

_"Be mad at me all you want.  But, this is what we are working with.  Either you are on board, or you're not."_

_Nothing._

_"This isn't a game to me.  We have to be careful.  You've got to promise me that you'll be careful."_

  
****

“We’re running late, guys,” Stuart said from the doorway.  

“We are aware,” Louis said, walking over and closing the door.  Of course they were running late.  They were always running late.  “He is right you know,” Louis said to Harry as he followed him into the bedroom.

“I just need to get something,” Harry told him.

Louis rolled his eyes though Harry couldn’t see him and lay down on the bed.  The morning had been rough, but Harry had cheered up considerably after venting his frustrations in the gym.  They still needed to talk, but Louis didn’t want to risk Harry’s good mood this close to show time.

“Got it.”  Harry came out of the closet wearing nothing but a scarf draped loosely around his neck.  The ends of it hovered just above his hips, drawing attention to his nakedness.  “Don’t you like it?”

“We do not have time for you to be strutting around here like that,” Louis told him.  He turned on his side to get a better view of Harry’s physique.  “This is not a time saving maneuver.”

“Relax.  They can’t go on without us, regardless.  And we aren’t that late.  Besides, you are the one holding things up, what with being fully dressed.  Get to it, Louis.  As you said, we haven’t got all day, and I’m going to need a few minutes with you.”  Harry walked into the bathroom while Louis laughed.  

It felt too simple, Harry thought, as he leaned over the sink and looked at his face in the mirror.  He was trying to put on a brave face, but he felt so tired.  And for all of the happiness he felt at what had transpired in the last few days, he still didn’t feel right, or entirely ready, for whatever was to come.  The sight of those pictures earlier, the phone call with Max...those all put it into a strange perspective. Things felt too fragile right now, and he was afraid that every move he made would be the wrong one.  Louis seemed not to mind about those pictures, about what might be said about them, and it was a drastic departure from the past.  And as much as he wanted to believe that it really was different this time, he couldn’t help but obsess over every little detail.  

“Are you coming?” Louis said softly from the other room.  The flirtation in his voice brought a smile to Harry’s face, and he pushed down all of the things that were always, constantly, without abating, bubbling to the surface.  Richard was handling the pictures, he told himself.  Louis loved him, he told himself.  He loved Louis, he told himself.  

He focused on those last two things as he sauntered back to the bed where Louis was, propped up on his elbows.  “Why are you still dressed?”

Louis looked up at him, sitting forward, and flattening his hand against Harry’s stomach.  His hands were warm, but Harry shivered at the contact.  Louis grabbed the ends of the scarf in his other hand, wrapping it around his fist and tugging until Harry bent over him.  Harry felt his tension release as Louis kissed him.  His mind emptied and his lungs filled, and he felt like he could breath as he kissed Louis, as he pushed his shirt up, as he pulled his pants down.  His stomach relaxed and he forgot about everything else as Louis exhaled above him.

 

“Dammit, Stuart, I said we know!” Louis said as he heard a knock on the door.  He was reclining on his elbows, watching Harry between his legs.  He could see the grin in Harry’s eyes even if his mouth wasn’t capable of a grin just then.  And at that moment, he didn’t give a fuck if they missed the entire show.  “Fuck off!”  He closed his eyes again and dropped his head back.  Harry did this thing with his tongue that Louis couldn’t even begin to describe….

“Well.”

Harry froze.  Louis’ head snapped up.  His eyes met Harry’s and they shared a look of alarm.  Harry disengaged himself quickly and turned toward the door.  

“This is quite the scene.”

“Celeste,” Harry said.  

She cocked her head to the side.  “I know we weren’t serious, Harry, but this?”

“How’d you get in?”  Louis asked her.

“That’s your biggest concern right now?”  

“Where’s Stuart,” Louis said, more to Harry than to her.

She shrugged disinterestedly.

Harry’s heart was pounding.  The feeling of being caught like this was not wholly unfamiliar, but this felt sinister in a way that it hadn’t before.  

“Well, maybe you should do as he has done, and go,” Louis said.  Harry was frozen on the floor.  

“Louis,” he said slowly.  He was having trouble forming a coherent thought, much less a coherent statement.  

“I thought things were strange, but now….  I guess my suspicions were accurate.”

“Who gives a fuck about your fucking ‘suspicions,’” Louis spat.  “Get the fuck out.”  She grinned, still standing in the door.  “Harry.”  Louis put a hand on his shoulder.    
“Celeste,” Harry said.  

“Okay,” Louis said, speaking for Harry.  “Perhaps you should go outside and wait.  Harry will be right with you.”  

“But,” Harry said.  Harry closed his eyes, trying to understand why he felt like this in this moment, so scared, as if there was something he knew but couldn’t recall.  

“Harry, you have to snap out of it,” Louis said quietly.  Celeste laughed oddly, but turned to leave, and as she pulled the door shut behind her, Harry saw the sheer curtain flutter out of the corner of his eye.

And he remembered.  

Celeste in Louis' t-shirt, her legs crossed on the bed, the smell of coffee and stale cigarettes.

A headache, and a heartache, and a rebellious determination to prove a point.

Dozens of tiny pieces of paper drifting to the floor, forgotten, as he accepted kisses from a girl he didn’t really want.

Forgotten.

Harry had forgotten.

His heart stopped beating and though he knew Louis was talking to him, his voice sounded like a dull echo that he couldn’t quite make out.  He felt the weight of Louis hands on his shoulders.  He needed to get up, run after her, do something, but he felt glued to the floor.  

“Harry!” Louis said loudly, grasping his shoulders roughly and shaking him into the present moment.  Harry didn’t know if only a few seconds had passed, or if it had been whole minutes, but he jumped up quickly then, finding the first pair of pants he saw and and tripping as he tried to pull them on as he ran out of the room.  “Where are you going?”

“Call Stuart,” Harry said from the hallway.  “We need backup.”

“Backup?  What is this, some sort of--”

“CALL SOMEONE,” Harry shouted, stumbling through the suite.  He had to get to her before she left, though he couldn’t figure out what he might say to her.  He thought for a moment that he might be over-reacting, as he heard Louis on the phone in the other room, but there was something odd about this recent chain of events, and certain bits that didn’t make sense before that were coming together now, crystal clear.  

He made it to the main room, just as he heard the door slam closed.  If she had had any intention of waiting, she must have changed her mind.  

He ran out of the room and into the hallway, but he couldn’t spot her.  The halls were empty, their usual security somehow having disappeared all at once.  He ran down the steps, not considering how it might appear when he burst into the lobby, not concerned who might see.  He looked one way and then another, not seeing her, and ran to the concierge.  “Did you see a woman come through here just now?”

The man looked at him like he was nuts, and Harry paused for a moment.  There were dozens of people here.  He had been so intent on finding her he didn’t notice the odd hush around him, the way the movement in the room had stopped.  He forgot his question and turned to see several people staring at him.  It was strange, the silence.  He could see the looks of surprise on a handful of fans that had made it past the doorman for one reason or another.  He could see their phones, held up to face him, none of them trying to be discreet, as they no doubt recorded this ridiculous moment.  This moment that could mean nothing, or everything.

They smiled expectantly, but he paid them no attention.  He couldn’t even process the idea of smiling right now, and so just as quickly as he had come, he left again, running up the stairs two at a time.

He went back to the room, and he saw Louis leaning over the railing of the balcony.  His hair was a mess, caught by the breeze, and he had a cigarette between his fingers.    He turned to face Harry as he slid the balcony door open.  

“I was wondering if you’d be returning to collect me.  Or at least a shirt and some shoes.”  Louis’ tone had a bite to it that made Harry’s stomach drop.  Harry just stared at him, not knowing what to say.  “Care to explain, Harold?”  Louis didn’t make eye contact, but tapped a bit of ash into a tray on the glass table between them.

Harry didn’t want to explain.  He didn’t know how he should, or could.  He didn’t know how to tell Louis that he had been so careless.  Or so reckless.  Or so flat out stupid.  Or had it been vindictive, even?  Had he done this with some bit of purpose?  Had it been an angry move, or a hopeful one?  He didn’t know.  

Harry frowned and shook his head.  “Where is Stuart?”

“He is trapped in traffic, of course.  Are you going to explain what is going on?”  Louis stubbed out the cigarette and followed as Harry walked into the suite.  Harry ignored him, and trudged into the bedroom.  “Okay,” Louis said, close behind him.  “Am I being insensitive?  I’m sorry she caught us.  Would you have liked to end it on better terms?  I didn’t realize that is was so….”   He reached out to touch Harry’s bare back, and as Harry felt fingertips meet his skin, he flinched away.  “How am I supposed to take this?”  Louis asked, his arm falling to his side.  “One minute you’re sucking my dick and the next you’re running after some girl?”

Harry was walking away from him, but those words made him sick.  He stopped mid-stride and turned to look at Louis.  “It isn’t.  That wasn’t it at all.  I wasn’t running after her because I wanted to spare her feelings….” Harry said.  “Are you not even slightly concerned about what she just witnessed, Lou?”

Louis sighed, seeming to relax some at Harry’s words.  “Is that all?  Surely, we’ll just go the usual route.  Legally she can’t sell anything,” Louis said with a shrug.  “Another day, another unfounded rumor.  She’s signed the appropriate things.  She’ll get buried if she so much as breathes a word of this, right?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Well, it isn’t exactly the best thing that has ever happened to us, and I certainly don’t have any attachment to her, but what can she really do?”

“Everything,” Harry said, slumping onto the bed.

“Everything?  What does that mean?”

Harry could see the tightness return to Louis’ jaw.  He was worried what Louis might say.  Worried that just when things had started to turn around for the better, they were headed down an even uglier path than before.  

“I’m afraid you’ll need to spell this out for me, Harold.”

Harry’s hands were shaking.  His heart was racing, and he was certain he was going to throw up before he could say anything.  Louis had warned him.  Louis would never forgive him.  Maybe for all of the other things, but not for this.  

“She can do anything she wants.  She never signed anything.  No NDA, no agreements, no background checks, nothing.”  Harry let it all tumble out at once, looking at his hand clasped in front of him instead of up at Louis’ face.  “I ripped the fucking thing up,” Harry said.  “I don’t even know why I did it, but I felt so awful, and it felt so good in the moment, and then I just forgot.”

The seconds of silence stretched on and on and on, as Harry waited for Louis’ response.  It was cold when it came.  Measured.  Careful.  

“Well.  That explains a few things, doesn’t it.”

Bitter, like the taste in Harry’s mouth.

  
  
  



	17. Chapter 17

“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he had said.

He should have known it was a lie.  He should have known that he hadn’t reacted the right way, hadn’t held Harry closely enough, hadn’t shown him in every way possible that this was not the end of the world.  

But he hadn’t.  

Harry had disappeared from the dressing room, while Louis was bent over a laptop with Liam, trying to feign interest in song lyrics he couldn’t focus on.  Harry had dropped his phone, their eyes had met, and then Harry had gone.  

Louis had wanted to run after him, but he hadn’t.  He had stared at the door, had pushed the computer away, and laid his head on the table, ignoring the queries from both Liam and Niall as to what, exactly, had got him and Harry into such moods.

He had taken comfort in knowing that Harry couldn’t get far.  They’d have to be on stage in less than an hour, and then, after that, he wouldn’t let Harry out of his sight.  They would figure this out.  They would weather this storm as they had the others before.  They would weather this one well, and intact.  

His body had felt heavy as he had walked to the stage.  The mic in his hand felt like a weight, dragging him down, and his heart beat faster as he could hear the screams.  Wanting, wanting, wanting; always more than he could give.  

Harry had shown up at the last moment, pulling on a shirt as he appeared next to Niall, and Louis had felt relief at seeing him, knowing that he was there, and though he didn’t have the words, still, as Harry remained atypically stoic and stiff, he had flattened his hand against Harry’s back as the opening chords played.  

He didn’t know if he had gotten his point across, but there wasn’t any time to make a more solid one.  He had lost his chance for that, wrapped up in his own frustrations and anger.

He had been angry, was still angry.  He was angry that they could never quite rest, angry that he needed to please thousands of people in a few minutes instead of fixing his own life.  

Sometimes--often--he locked his anger up and let it take hold of him.  Sometimes, he walked out on stage and saw thousands of faces screaming for him, and sometimes, he saw those same thousands of people trying to take everything he had away from him.  

When would it be enough.  

He stepped out on stage, listening for his cues from his band mates amid the roar of the excited crowd, but he suddenly felt overwhelmed to the point of breathlessness.  These people were there for him, for them.  The adoration was real, palpable, and true, and he felt a swelling inside of him, as if he might burst from the feeling of this freedom he hadn’t felt in so long, or at all, really.  This was love, pure and simple, and no matter the truths of what they were, or what they weren’t, Louis realized in that moment that it didn’t matter anymore.  That no matter what people said about them, no matter what they did, he and Harry could have everything that they’d ever wanted and dreamed of.  He felt, finally and completely, that this would be okay.  

But it wasn’t.

All Louis wanted was to run to Harry, to meet his eye, to smile and wave and in their own subtle way, tell the world that this was real, and this was them, and that they were wholly and entirely devoted the fans, to the band, and to each other.  

But it wasn’t meant to happen.

Louis had noticed it first in the way Harry was avoiding him.  He noticed it in the way that Harry would not make eye contact for even the briefest of seconds, the way Harry walked off stage when Louis was speaking, the way Harry, very purposely, avoided walking off stage when Louis did.  He noticed it, too, in the way that no matter what he did, or where he went, Harry would go in the very opposite direction.   It was unmistakeable, the way he would pointedly turn his body away from Louis when he had always, even in their darkest of moments, turned toward him without even thinking.  

It had been quite obvious that Harry was thinking.  And that whatever it was he was thinking could lead to nowhere good.

In fact, it hadn’t.  

As they had all piled into the van ready to whisk them away to the airport, Harry had backed away from the door.  Niall had jumped in after Louis, who tried to get back out of the door.  “Get out of my way, Niall,” he had said, fighting his way through legs and backpacks to get out again, to follow Harry, who he could feel was slipping away, unanchored.  His curls were plastered to his forehead, and his eyes were dull and lifeless.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” Harry had said as he shut the door, with only the briefest forced, faked smile.

Louis scrambled to open the door, but as he begged the driver to just stop for one goddamned second so he could get out, he saw Harry jump into another car and pull ahead of them.  He could only hope that Harry just needed a few minutes alone, that he would arrive at the airport with the rest of them, would board the plane by Louis’ side.  But even as Louis tried to placate himself with these thoughts, he knew that it was nothing more than a wish that wouldn’t come true.

First, he told himself to just give Harry a few minutes of peace.  

Next, he told himself that Harry was no doubt worried, and embarrassed, and of course he didn’t want to sit in the van and have to tell these boys what he had inadvertently done.  

Then, he remembered the way Harry had so pointedly avoided him, purposely turned away from him all night long.  

And after that, the panic started to settle in.  It was unfocused panic at first, a million things all jumbled together, creating a terrifying picture.  The euphoria of stepping onto the stage and performing was always accompanied with a terrible letdown afterward, and Louis felt that now, acutely, in the pounding in his head.  The chatter around him was grating on his nerves, and he felt his hands clench into fists.  His heart started racing as he pictured the look on Celeste’s face as she had caught them in such an intimate, and obvious, moment, and the deja vu he had felt made sense as he remembered a series of pictures, the look on her face in photographs as she had sealed their fate with a kiss from Harry, and a photographer waiting in the alley.  

Suddenly sick, he remembered the secrets he had told her, that night in a hotel room, heart aching, Harry’s “fuck you” reverberating in his head. 

He had vaguely realized it, that she had been the leak, somewhere along the way, that she had been up to no good.  That there were too many timely coincidences to all be random bits of tabloid gossip, picked up here and there, but never substantiated. 

He wondered now, if Harry knew, if he had seen the pattern.  And he realized that Harry wasn’t just afraid of some groupie spouting rumors to make a few hundred dollars, and have a few minutes of fame before she was forgotten again.  This was appearing to be a very calculated campaign targeted directly at Harry.  The invasiveness felt terrifying and paralyzing.  Louis didn’t give a thought to what it might mean for them, as individuals, as a couple, in terms of their careers or their families, he only worried about Harry.  And his concern increased exponentially as he thought of all of the restrictions he had begged from Harry, all of the secrets he had tried to keep, all of the warnings he had issued.  Threats, empty from his perspective, but would Harry know that?  Would Harry realize that he had been scared, said things he didn’t mean, that he wouldn’t follow through?  That nothing Harry would ever do would change anything real between them.  He wasn’t sure.

So lost in his thoughts, so used to the routine of their lives, he paid no attention to what was going on around him, not realizing that they arrived at the airport, had made their way through security, and were boarding a small plane bound for who knew where.  And only then did he realize that Harry was no where to be seen.

He collapsed into a seat.  

He felt lost.  

As he heard the engines of the plane starting up, he took out his phone.  He could barely muster the energy to type out a singular message.

 _Please come home_.

****

_“No,” Harry said.  “No.  No, no, no,” he pleaded.  He looked up at Louis, who was standing above him.  “Please don’t do this.”  His fingers gripped the side of the bed, and his eyes burned.  He knew his anguish was evident on his face, and he wanted Louis to see it.  Louis’ glance fluttered over his face, but he refused to make eye contact, instead shoving his phone in his pocket and turning away._

_“You cannot do this,” Harry entreated.  “You cannot leave.  Not now.  Don’t leave me like this.”  Harry’s voice broke on the last word, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat to no avail._

_The room was still.  Cool.  Comfortable, but for this pain that was radiating from Harry’s heart._

_“I have to,” Louis said.  His voice echoed off the wall in front of him, and each slow syllable triggered a wave of sickness in Harry’s stomach._

_He took one breath and then another, and a third before he spoke.  Louis stood still, fiddling with a stack of papers on the desk next to the bedroom door.  “I am begging you.”  Harry’s throat was dry, his voice strained.  “I will get down on my knees, if I have to.”_

_“Don’t,” Louis said, quickly._

_“I will.”_

_“Don’t, Harry.”_

_Harry stared at Louis’ back, willing him to feel just how much Harry needed him to stay, just how much Harry needed to hear his forgiveness, hear some words, see some movement, that would tell him that this would be okay._

_With a sigh, Louis turned.  He walked over to Harry, and Harry thought he might have broken him, had convinced him to stay.  Louis came close, close enough that Harry could feel the heat of his body, could smell his freshly showered skin, and that hint of something intangible, unexplainable, that smelled like Lou.  Harry, still bent over himself, lifted his head, looking up into Louis’ face as Louis ran his hand through Harry’s hair.  He grasped the thick curly mass in his fist and held on for a moment._

_“Please.”  It was barely a whisper, hoarse, pleading, as Louis’ hands rested on Harry’s shoulders.  Harry grasped the back of Louis’ thigh with one hand, pulling him closer, and rested his face against Louis’ stomach.  “Please.”_

_Louis felt Harry’s body go still against him, could feel the fierce grip of Harry’s hand on his leg, as if he was holding on for dear life.  He hated this.  He held Harry’s head tightly to him, waiting for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do.  He was losing his resolve with every breath that Harry took.  After a bit, he crouched down, between Harry’s legs, eye level with him.  He pushed the hair out of Harry’s face.  Harry was too hard to resist._

_Harry, with is green eyes pleading, was too heartbreaking to deny._

_“Come on, then,” Louis said quietly.  “Let’s get some sleep.  Go on, love,” he said, nudging Harry back on the bed.  Louis stood over him for a minute, before kneeling on the bed.  He felt uneasy.  Harry lying there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, looked so vulnerable.  Louis had done that to him.  He couldn’t bear that he was turning Harry into this person who was scared, insecure, lost.  But Louis was scared, too.  And Harry’s latest antics had been a step too far._

_“Harry.”  Harry looked up into his face, a weak smile on his lips._

_“Hmm?” He said sleepily.  It was obvious he was exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally._

_“I love you,” Louis answered, bending to kiss him on his lips.  His pink, perfect lips, supple, and salty from quietly shed tears.  “Remember that, okay?” Louis said as he climbed over Harry and wrapped his arms around him.  “Remember that I love you.”_

_Louis lay awake for what seemed like ages.  He listened to Harry’s breathing, waiting for it to become more even as Harry fell asleep.  He raised up on his elbow, so that he could stare, for just a few moments, at Harry’s face, relaxed, his hair falling across his forehead.  He looked peaceful, innocent, the lines of worry erased from his forehead.  He looked as he should: young, contented, without a care in the world, not tied up in this mess of love and lust and politics and performances._

_Louis ran his hand along Harry’s bare arm, before sitting back, his jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists at his side._

 

_Hours later, Harry rolled over in the dark, reaching but not finding.  The sheet beside him was cold.  In the haze of waking up he thought that perhaps he had dreamed it, falling asleep, Lou’s chest pressed to his back, stubble tickling his shoulder.  It wasn’t a dream, though.  The indentation on the pillow beside him was evidence of that.  Louis had stayed._

_He had stayed._

_With a relieved smile forming on his lips, Harry rolled onto his back and closed his eyes again, breathing easily, glad that his latest indiscretions hadn’t been enough to run Louis off._

_But as he lay there, the relief slipped away as he realized how utterly silent the room was.  Louis was never quiet, to start.  There was no shower running, no banging around in the bathroom or kitchen.  And really, when was the last time Louis had woken up before Harry.  Approximately never.  It was always Harry who was up early.  Harry who would have had a workout and breakfast and a shower before Lou even opened his eyes or stretched lazily in bed._

_Harry’s chest tightened and he sat up so quickly that his head started spinning.  He looked around the room for any evidence to disprove his suspicions, to tell him that he was just being paranoid, that Louis had gotten up early for a meeting or breakfast, or...something.  But he came up empty._

_Louis’ things were gone._

_Louis was gone._

_“Asshole,” Harry muttered under his breath.  “Asshole!”_

_Harry stormed out of the bedroom, and pulled the front door open.  “Where is Louis?” He asked the security guard in the hallway.  He shrugged._

_"Haven’t seen him,” was the only answer Harry got._

_“How long have you been here?”_

_“A couple hours.”_

_Angry, he retreated into the room, and slammed the door._

_“How could you,” he said to the empty room.  He stalked back to the bed and grabbed his phone to dial Louis’ number._

_No answer._

_He called again, and again, still no answer.  And with each ignored call, he grew angrier and angrier.  Gone was the sadness and despair from last night.  Gone was the relief._

_His anger peaked for a brief moment, as he stared down at the list of unanswered calls, but it quickly dissipated into an acute yearning, a feeling that was becoming all too familiar._

****

I’ll see you in a few minutes,” Harry had said.  It had been a lie.  Of course.  He had no intention of seeing Louis in a few minutes.  He had every intention of getting as far away as possible, as quickly as possible, before Louis had the chance to leave him first.  

He jumped into the car, and sped in the opposite direction of the rest.  The last few hours had been almost intolerable.  He could feel the effects of Louis’ simmering anger, knew that there would be a price to pay for all of this.  He had messed up this time, been careless and thoughtless and rebellious.  

He called Celeste again, desperate to talk to her, to hear her say something that would assuage his guilt, something that would indicate that his fears that had been mounting steadily since she had caught him with Louis were unfounded.  

Something that would tell him that she was just another girl, having some fun, not someone who was out to get him, for whatever sick, self-serving reason.  He had let her into his home, even into his head and his heart, and the betrayal of his innocent trust was making him sick.  

But it all seemed too perfect.  Tidbits slipping into stories that were more accurate than they had been in years.  The way photographers had been coincidentally showing up, outside of random clubs, private parties.  The way that the scoop had always been gotten before they could get to it themselves.  But there were things that he didn’t understand, like Max.  How had anyone figured that out?  That was a secret kept close to his heart; there was no one to betray it.  Then, he remembered, that night that Louis had missed the show, how messed up he was and….

“Shit.”

Harry dialed Richard’s number, dreading the call, not paying attention to what time it was, or where Richard might be.

“Harry, where are you?”

“I’m in a car,” he answered.  

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.”

“Harry, you have a red carpet to be on in 12 hours.”

“I’m not going to make it.”

“Harry.”

“I’m not going to make it,” he said again, and continued before Richard could cut in.  “Have you found her?”

“No,” Richard said.  

“Did you call her?  I gave you her address.  Did you check there?  What about her email?  Who was arranging her travel?  Surely someone has some sort of contact information for her.”

“It’s all coming up empty, Harry.  Dead ends.  She isn’t answering, she’s never lived at the address you’ve given us.”

“Try harder,” Harry snapped, hating himself the minute the words came out of his mouth.  But he was desperate.  

“Listen, Harry….”  Richard signed on the other end.  Harry wondered just how sick of all of this Richard was.  Judging by his tone, quite a bit.  “I’ve got my best, most trusted people on this, but we can’t find any record of her, anywhere.  No one by her name exists in any official capacity.”

“What.”

“Celeste doesn’t exist.”

“She fucking exists.  I didn’t make her up.”

“That’s not what I mean, Harry.  We’ve searched everything we can, and she doesn’t exist.”

Harry was silent on the other end.  

“How bad is this, Harry?  What are we up against?”

Harry was floored.  He had no words.  He hadn’t told Richard the worst of it, or any of it really, just that Celeste had disappeared and that he needed to find her.  That it was imperative she be found.  “I-I don’t know,” Harry said weakly.  “Bad.”

“How bad, Harry?  Is she in trouble?  Is she sick?  Is she...pregnant?”

“Jesus,” Harry said, Richard’s supposition bringing him out of his stupor.  “No, she isn’t pregnant.  It’s worse.”

Richard groaned on the other end.  “How bad, Harry.  I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

“She walked in on me and Louis this morning.”

“You and Louis?  Meaning what, exactly?  Where?  What were you doing?”

“I was giving Louis a blowjob in our hotel room, and she walked in on us,” Harry said flatly, not having the energy to bypass the question.

“Christ, Harry,” Richard said.

“You asked.”

“Well, we can deal with this,” Richard said.  “Even if she goes to the papers, we can shut down the story, go after whoever she is.  She signed an agreement, one way or another.  We can figure it out.”

“No,” Harry said.

“No?”

“She never signed anything.”

“Shit, Harry.”

“I don’t need a lecture” Harry told him.  “Too late for that, obviously.  But listen.  Niall told me earlier that he saw her at the party last night.”  He felt his stomach flip again the way it had when Niall had told him this morning, remembering the look on Louis’ face when he glanced up at the sound of Harry’s phone crashing on the floor.  “I never did.  In fact, she had told me I might not hear from her for a bit, so I figured we were just going our separate ways.  I think she took those pictures,” Harry told him.  “The ones of me and Louis from last night?  At the club?”  He could hear Richard typing through the phone, no doubt taking notes on the most embarrassing and potentially damaging thing to have ever happened to him.  “And the ones of me and her from that party?  I think that was her too.  And all the other stuff that has been popping up. The rumors about Louis’ hand.  Can you track any of that stuff?”

“We’ve been trying, but it has been next to impossible.  The photos and stories are getting dropped into random places, and as soon as they are picked up the original source just seems to disappear.  It is virtually untrackable--by the time it is on our radar, there’s no way to tell where these things originate from, unless we’ve done it ourselves.”

“So, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, Harry.  Let me see what the next few hours bring up.  We’ll put out holds to all of our regular contacts letting them know that we’ll sue the shit out of them if they publish anything about any of you in the next 48 hours.  It’s not guaranteed, but they like to stay on our good side, typically.  But I can’t prevent this from leaking.  You guys need to figure out how you want to proceed.”

Harry closed his eyes and leaned against the seat.  The only way he wanted to proceed was to disappear completely.  

“Harry?  Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll figure this out.  I’ll be in touch.”

Harry set the phone down beside him, and tried to breath.  He needed to clear his head, needed to consider exactly what was at stake.  

 

Harry let himself into Louis’ house.  He was exhausted from the travel, emotionally drained.  He had had numerous conversations with Richard as he traveled away from Louis, and toward him all at once.  All of them had gone nowhere.  All avenues had been fleshed out, none of them leading anywhere.  

Harry didn’t know what else he could do but wait.

He wished he knew what he was waiting for.  He wished he knew what would happen, when it would happen.  

He couldn’t believe that he had relinquished so much control with one tiny act, and of all the people....  

But he told himself not to dwell on it, for in regards to Celeste it seemed as though there was nothing more he could do.  It was too late now, and he’d have to weather whatever storm would come.  

He slouched against the door, dropping his bag, and slid to the floor.  The house seemed untouched; it seemed that Louis hadn’t been there in months, and he could see sheets covering the furniture in the living room to his left.  He shook his head, wondering if Louis had been here at all in the time they had been off, and his eyes landed on the gash in the wall.  He remembered the night his belt had dug into the plaster, but instead of smiling at the memory, the images it conjured up made him want to cry.  He pulled out his phone while he sat on the cold stone in the entryway, trying to push away thoughts of Louis.  He checked his email, nothing.  He checked his missed calls, again, nothing.  It had been hours since he had checked in with Richard, and still there was nothing to report.  It wasn’t a good sign, but it wasn’t entirely bad either, he thought.  

He scrolled through twitter, too, trying to glean any knowledge from what people were saying.  It was the same as always though, the usual speculation, the praise, the complaints, but nothing alarming or unusual.  

He checked his texts, then, and saw the lone message from Lou: _Please come home_.

 _Home_.  Isn’t that where he was?  And where was Louis?  Not here; not home.  And what did he want Harry to come home for, anyway?  To tell him how badly he had messed up?  To look at him with those pained blue eyes, to tell him again how this wasn’t going to work, how afraid he was?  How Harry had ruined it all?  

Harry groaned, standing up and shoving the phone in his pocket.  He knew he was projecting his own shit onto Louis now.  He knew that Louis was pissed, rightfully so.  He just needed to sort this out, come up with a plan, and he needed to do it alone.

He had three days.  

But, first order of business was to find a drink.  Anything would do.  He strode purposefully through the house, and dug a bottle out of the cabinet.  The house was chilly, so he wandered up the steps to the bedroom

Harry climbed into Louis’ bed, wearing a sweatshirt he had found in a drawer that he hadn’t seen in ages.  It had been Louis’ favorite, for a long time, but of course years had passed, and as with everything, it had been replaced by something newer, nicer, different.  He plugged in his dead laptop, and booted up the computer, searching for a link to the red carpet event that he should have been at.  It was nearly bedtime where he was, but it wasn’t even dinner time where the rest of them were.  He felt odd not being there.  He had never missed an event like this.  He worried that he was letting them down, but he was curious all the same.  

He watched, mostly disinterested.  He knew exactly when they were supposed to show up, having checked the emailed itinerary several times.  He checked the time.  They were late.  

He heard the screams in the background, wondered if that signaled their arrival, and he had his answer moments later when they walked into the frame.  The first thing the interviewer asked was where he was.  The question was not directed at anyone in particular, but he wondered if Louis would answer.  Of course, he didn’t.  He stood there, his hands gripped behind his back.  He looked absolutely lovely, Harry thought, though the tension in his face was obvious.  No doubt bracing himself for some question they weren’t prepared for.  But Liam took this question: “He’s a bit under the weather, needed to take a bit of a rest.  We’re running all over the world,” he said.  

“There are rumors that he’s left, as Zayn did.”

The three of them looked at each other, obviously more than a little caught off guard.  

“Absolute rubbish,” Louis answered finally.  “He’ll be back on stage with us at the next show, isn’t that right, boys?”

The others looked at him, agreeing with the statement, but he could see how uneasy they all were.   _Think it’s bad now,_ he thought to himself.  

“Louis,” the interviewer began.  Harry noticed that Louis wasn’t paying attention, was busy glancing off camera, and bouncing from foot to foot nervously.  “The rumor mill has been working overtime, as usual.”

“What’s that,” Louis said after a pause.  “There are always rumors,” he said, trying to be cheeky.

“That you broke it off with Eleanor because you were seeing someone else.”

“That’s not quite true, no,” he said.  

“So there’s no new lady to tell us about?”

“Heh,” he said nervously.  “No new lady, no.  You should check your information,” he quipped.  

The discomfort Louis felt was radiating through the screen, and Harry wanted to curl up under the blanket and never come out again.  But he couldn’t stop watching, couldn’t stop wondering exactly what Louis was thinking, couldn’t stop blaming himself for creating this mess.  He watched as Liam managed to steer the conversation away from their personal lives and back to their new album, and then as they all said their goodbyes and walked off the screen, before slowly shutting the computer.  

He had to make a move.  He had do something.  And between the vodka and Louis’ face on that red carpet, he was feeling quite distraught.  He’d do anything to fix this.  Even if it meant sacrificing himself.

 _Please tell me what you want_ , he typed into his phone.  

He waited, not expecting a response, but as he stretched out on the bed, his phone rang.  It was an unknown number, but he answered it anyway.  

“Hello?”

“Harry,” she said on the other end.  “It’s Celeste.”

Though he had imagined a million different ways this conversation could go, Harry found himself speechless.  “Are you there, Harry?  I thought we should talk, sort out this situation.  I have to say I was quite surprised about what I walked in on.”

“Were you?”

“Of course.  It isn’t every day that a girl walks in on her boyfriend with another man.”

“I was never your boyfriend,” he said stonily.  “What do you want?  Why have you been lying about who you are?”

“Ah, I see,” she said.  “I’ve been found out.  I’d pretend to feel more guilty about that, but of course, you weren’t exactly truthful with me, either.”

“You lied to me.”

“You used me.”

“Did I?  I actually liked you,” he said to her.  “I wanted to make it work.”

“Best laid plans, and all of that?  Meanwhile you’re traipsing around with another man.”

“I was doing no such thing.  As soon as we….  Look, you made it clear to me that what was going on was purely casual.  You showed up unannounced after telling me that you wouldn’t be around.”

“And that’s license to cheat?”

“Oh, come off it,” he snapped.  

“I’ve not heard you so angry before,” she said.  

Harry took a few deep breaths trying to force himself to stay calm.  “Can we just try a little honesty?  What is it you want?”  He didn’t know if his tactic would work, but he figured it was worth a shot.  

Celeste laughed softly into the phone.  “I want the truth.”

“For what purpose?”

“Why should I lay all my cards out on the table?”

“If you don’t, then I’m hanging up, and I’ll never speak to you again.”

“And if I do?”

“Then you have a chance to hear my side of the story.”  She was quiet for a few moments, and he imagined she was weighing her options.  He wondered if the chance to hear it from him would be worth it to her.  

“Why should I trust you?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” he said.  He felt like an imposter.  He had no clue what he was doing or saying, or where this would lead.  

“What do you want in exchange?” she asked.  

“The truth.”

“Hmm.  And if I tell you the truth?”

“Then I’ll grant you an exclusive interview.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Good question.  I imagine that you’ll sell what you have anyway, am I wrong?  But if you have my own words, then it’ll be a whole different thing.  It’s one thing to have rumors and hearsay.  A few grainy photographs.  You’ll get your five minutes of fame and then you’ll get buried in the next day’s gossip.  You get a sanctioned story, and I get to have some control over what is said.  I won’t disappoint you, I promise.”

“You haven’t yet, that’s for sure,” she said to him.

“So this was your plan all along?  To trick me?”

“Not entirely,” she said.  “You seemed likeable.  I thought it couldn’t hurt to get to know you.  And you made it so easy.  You played right into my hands.  I had no clue what I was actually in for.”

“I told you I was a fool,” Harry said, remembering one of the first conversations that they had had.  “But you’re the first to take such advantage of that.”

“Oh, Harry.  It’s just business, you know.”

“Is it?  Her statement made him instantly angry.  “Is it just business that you hire photographers to follow you around on dates?  Is it just business to fake relationships with men to sneak into their lives?  Is it just business to go after people that they have loved and cared for and make their lives miserable?”

“Don’t take it so personally.  No publicity is bad publicity.  You of all people should know that.”

“So, was it you?  All along?  All of the photos, the leaks?  From the beginning?”

“As I said, you made it quite easy.”

“How do you sleep at night?”

“I sleep just fine, thank you, though I slept especially well with you there beside me.”

“You have got to be joking,” he said.  He had never felt so disgusted.  The thought that he had let someone like this into his life, into the lives of all of his friends made him sick.  

“I can’t believe I trusted you.”

“It seems you don’t have a great track record, there.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“And yet you are willing to sell it, too.”

“It’s not about selling anything,” he said to her.  “It is about protecting the people I have let down.  I am willing to work with you if it means I can spare my friends.”

“So noble,” she said.  “You want to protect the people who have roundly, and routinely suffocated you, is that it?  You want to protect Louis?  Who is good enough for bedroom blowjobs, but can’t even smile at you on stage?  You are a star in your own right, Harry.  You’re wasting your time with these so-called friends of yours, and this silly band.”

“You have no clue what you are talking about,” Harry defended.  

“If I’m so off base, maybe you can clear it all up for me.”

“Don’t worry,” he said.  “I will.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

“Well that event was complete shit,” Louis complained.  He was tired and frustrated, the latter of which was made worse by the barrage of asinine questions he had to address for the first part of the evening.  And then, of course, having to sit through another awards show where half the audience didn’t quite take them seriously always grated on his nerves.  But, try as he might to blame those things for why he was currently feeling the way he was feeling, his effort was futile.  There was only one real explanation, and that explantation was Harry.  

He immediately shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the sofa in the shared suite.  Why they were all sharing he couldn’t really understand.  Something about limited space, last minute bookings.  

“It wasn’t all that bad, Tommo,” Liam said to him.  

“It was bad,” Louis asserted.  “Is there anything to drink?”

Niall handed him a beer and sat down on the sofa.  “Are you going to tell us what is going on?”

Louis had played dumb about what was happening, had skirted questions about Harry’s whereabouts.  “I would if I knew,” Louis told him.  

“You must know something,” Liam said.  “Surely Harry didn’t run off and tell absolutely no one.  He at least would have told you.”

“I have no clue where he is.”

“Then you must know the why of it,” Niall said.  “What happened?  Is he with Celeste?”

“God I fucking hope not.”

“He got all weird when I told him she’d been at that party.”

“What party?” Louis asked.

“The other night, when you two locked me out of the bathroom.  Even though you said you didn’t.”

“She was there?”  

“Yeah, saw her myself.”  Niall kicked off his shoes and propped them on the coffee table in front of him, reclining comfortably, and Louis envied the ease with which he lived his life.  Easy and free.  Louis was ready for that himself.  

“You saw Celeste?”

“Yes!  What don’t you understand?”

“She wasn’t supposed to be there,” Louis said.  He wasn’t really surprised.  It just affirmed his belief that she was up to no good.  Harry must have realized it, too.  “You said you told Harry?”

“Yeah, in the dressing room before the show the other night, and then he ran out of the room.  And then we had that weird ass performance, and then he disappeared.”

“I was there, Niall,” Louis said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  “You dont’ need to give me a play by play.”  The truth was, he was constantly reliving that evening himself.  He didn’t need someone else to point out how horrible it had been.    

“Have another drink and lighten up,” Niall retorted.  “Don’t piss all over me because you are in a bad mood.  It’s not my fault.”

“No,” Louis said.  “It’s not.  I know that.”

“You really don’t know where he is?” Liam asked.  “He really didn’t say?”

“I’m not lying.  I don’t know where he is.  He hasn’t answered my messages.  I’m trying to give him space….”

“That’s obviously not working.”

“You don’t know what is and isn’t working, Liam.  Spare me your advice.”

Liam put his hands up in surrender.  “Whoa.  I’m just trying to get to the bottom of what is going on.”

Louis tipped the bottle to his mouth and took a long swig of mediocre beer.  He didn’t know how to proceed, but he decided to tell them the truth of it all; they’d find out sooner or later, and he wanted them to at least find out from someone they trusted.  

He swallowed and set down his beer.  “Celeste walked in on me and Harry.”

“Walked in on you?  Meaning what?”

“I’d explain if you’d sit back and listen instead of interrupting.  Please, Liam, hold your questions until the end.”  He waited for a resigned nod before continuing.  “I’m going to back up a few steps.  Harry and I recently decided to get back together.  We decided that we were happier together than apart, that we should be together, no matter what.  We’ve made a lot of missteps on the way, we both know that, and we know that we’ve taken you all along for a ride you never knew you were getting on.  Both of us feel bad about that, which is why we were just trying to lay low for a bit, sort things out, make sure we knew what we were going to do, how to proceed.  You know, figure out which parts were bullshit and which parts weren’t, before we got everyone all involved for yet another round of will they or won’t they.  Celeste….  I never liked her, but I thought she was mostly insignificant at first.  And then things got weirder and weirder.  I’ll spare you all of the minute details, but I’m fairly certain that she is behind most of what has been going on.  She walked in on my and Harry in a...sensitive moment, and then disappeared.  Harry is quite upset, as am I, but I think he misunderstood….”

“Well, that’s all very awkward,” Liam said, “but so what, at the end of the day?  What can she do?”

“She managed to avoid the typical legal proceedings,” Louis said, not wanting to completely throw Harry under the bus.  

“Whaaa?” Niall said.

“How?”  

“I don’t exactly understand,” Louis lied.  “It doesn’t matter now, anyway.  She’s probably got enough of a story, and has been snooping around in Harry’s life long enough to be able to put together a pretty revealing picture.  I don’t know if she will sell it or what, but you guys should know it is a possibility.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, we aren’t going to let her get away with it, are we?”

“There isn’t much we can do.”

“Sue her for defamation or something?”

“I don’t think we can do that if she is telling the truth.”

“I’m not going to have some nobody ruining your lives for fun and games,” Liam defended.  “Fuck her and all this bullshit.”

“She could ruin all of our lives.”

“Fat chance of that,” Niall said.  “What can she ruin?  No one gives a shit.”

“Gee, thanks Niall,” Louis said.

“I don’t mean it that way.  Everyone loves you.  If you and Harry made out on stage tomorrow night, the world would go mad.  In a good way.”

“I don’t know about that,” Louis said.  

“Well, it wouldn’t be so bad as you two always make it out to be.  Call Harry and get him on a plane so we can sort this out.  We’ll do whatever you want.  Niall and I will be damned before we let some creep drag the two of you through the mud.  I’ll not have her trying to make this into some petty gossip, either.”

Louis could feel a lump forming in his throat, touched by the ready support of his friends.  It’s not that he ever expected anything less, but it was moving all the same.  He didn’t know what to say really.  

“Speechless for once, are you, Louis? Ha! Go tell Harry to come back from wherever he is and that we’ve got your back and anyone who doesn’t like it can fuck off.  I’m going to bed.”  Liam clapped Louis on the shoulder and then walked down the hall to his private bedroom.

“And you Niall,” Louis said.  

“What Liam said,” Niall answered, clasping Louis’ knee as he used it as leverage to stand.  “I’m a bit wobbly, I’m goin ta bed, too.”

Louis stood up too, turned off the light and walked into his room.  He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, tossing it in the corner.  He had felt uncomfortable all night and needed something more comfortable to wear.  Of course, his suitcase had been packed by someone else in the rush and contained nothing he wanted to wear, so he pulled out his backpack.  He unzipped the top and found an envelope there, “Lou” scrawled across it in Harry’s unmistakable hand.  

He stared at it, afraid to touch it, not wanting to face whatever it might mean.  His stomach threatened to expel the several beers he had had on an empty stomach as he sank to the bed, still staring at the envelope sitting atop his things.  

“Harry,” he whispered.  His hand was shaking slightly as he finally retrieved the envelope.  It was heavier than he expected, and he felt the tell-tale shape of a ring inside.  “Dammit, Harold.”

He bit the inside of his lip and opened the letter carefully.  The ring fell out, and he slid it on his own thumb as he unfolded the sheet of paper, obviously torn from Harry’s journal that he carried everywhere.  

> “Lou,
> 
> I’m sorry, but I had to go.  I am not abandoning you, but I’m letting go of us.  I cannot contain myself and I cannot continue to hurt you or be hurt by you. Remember how hopeful we were, that morning as the sun rose and peeked over the stadium walls?  It seems so long ago, as if it was just a dream.  Perhaps that’s all this ever was, Lou.  A lovely dream and scattered nightmares.  I wish things could have gone differently for us, but I think it is time to wake up now.   
> 
> I hope that in another universe, another lifetime, they might.  So, hold this song in your heart, and let’s dream of what might have been.
> 
>  
> 
> Fingers tangled in the sheets
> 
> a house of windows but no one sees
> 
> mouth to mouth so we can breathe
> 
> but no one sees, no one sees
> 
>  
> 
> too little too late
> 
> that’s what they say
> 
> so much too early
> 
> baby it’s better this way
> 
> so much so soon
> 
> nothing lasts forever, except for me and you
> 
> forever me and you.
> 
>  
> 
> Hands press close to hearts on fire
> 
> They’ll never make us into liars.
> 
> You’ll always be my heart’s desire
> 
> Come on set my heart on fire.
> 
>  
> 
> too little too late
> 
> that’s what they say
> 
> too much so early
> 
> baby lets run away
> 
> too much too soon
> 
> we can last forever, baby me and you
> 
> forever, me and you
> 
>  
> 
> Hold on tight
> 
> Can we weather this night
> 
> Don’t wanna let you out of my sight
> 
> we can last forever, baby me and you
> 
> forever, me and you.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Always in my heart, Lou.
> 
>  
> 
> Yours sincerely,
> 
>  
> 
> H.”
> 
>  

****

_“Lou...Louis, get up,” Harry said, nudging him out of sleep._

_“What,” Louis said, opening his eyes, startled._

_“Shh!  Get dressed.”  Harry handed Louis a pair of pants and a t-shirt.  “Come on.”_

_“I quite like where I am,” Louis said, stretching out in the tiny bunk and closing his eyes again.  “It must be the middle of the night.”_

_Harry was quiet, and when Louis opened his eyes again, he found Harry’s face just inches from his, peering into the tiny alcove.  “Dammit Harry!” Louis said._

_“Shuddup,” someone murmured from behind another of the closed curtains, and Louis and Harry looked at each other and giggled._

_“Come on, Lou,” Harry said, tugging on his arm.  “I want to show you something.”_

_“This better be good,” he said, groaning as he pulled the shirt over his head._

_“If you wouldn’t stay up so late, doing absolutely nothing, you wouldn’t need to sleep so much,” Harry teased while Louis walked through the door.  It was still dark out at the parking lot was deserted._

_“If I recall, we weren’t doing absolutely nothing,” Louis shot back.  “Unless that’s what you call nothing.”_

_Harry didn’t answer.  He was focused on moving quickly through the parking lot and Louis had to jog to catch up to him.  As he caught up, Harry grabbed his hand and pulled him behind a fence.  “What are we doing?”_

_“Shhhh,” Harry insisted, placing one finger over Louis’ lips.  “Just wait,” he mouthed.  After a moment, Harry let go of him and bolted around the corner, his long legs carrying him across the parking lot quickly.  Louis, caught off guard, ran after him and found him waiting with the door propped open._

_“Being sneaky, are you, Harold?”_

_“Go on,” Harry said.  “We’ve only got a bit of time between shifts.”  Harry explained, as he led Louis through the corridor.  “The early cleaning crew is just leaving, and everyone else will start arriving in an hour or so.”_

_“How do you know that?”_

_“I made a friend.”_

_“Of course you did.  So can you tell me now where we’re going?”_

_“Can’t you just trust me, Lou?”  Harry asked, with a grin on his face._

_They weaved a path through the unending hallways until finally they found themselves in open space.  It was still dark, though the moon was fading and the very first bit of sunlight was starting to lighten the night sky._

_“Holy shit,” Louis said.  “This place is massive.”_

_“Isn’t it crazy,” Harry agreed._

_The stadium was enormous, the biggest place they would play so far, and the sight of it was nearly overwhelming._

_“Come up here.”  Harry climbed onto a portion of the stage, and offered a hand to Louis, pulling him up effortlessly.  Silently, they both turned in slow circles, taking it all in.  When they stopped again, they were face to face, and smiles spread over both their faces.  “Tonight, this place is going to be filled with people screaming at us and singing with us, and it will be amazing.  But I wanted to see it with you, just you, first.”  He smiled and stepped close to Louis, and they embraced, both of them feeling overwhelmed, the emotional magnitude of what they had been through and where they had made it so far taking hold._

_“One day, we’re going to do it, Louis,” Harry said, standing on half built stage in an empty arena.  “One day, we’re going to walk out on this stage, and we will--” Louis cut him off by pressing his lips to Harry’s.  Harry gave in, grinning against Louis’ lips before pulling away.  “Let me finish, would you,” he laughed.  Louis tilted his head, giving Harry permission to continue.  “One day, we will walk out on a stage like this, and we will be able to show them all.”  Harry ended his brief speech abruptly, his voice cracking, a lump swelling in his throat._

_“Show them what, Harry,” Louis asked softly, tucking a swirl of hair behind Harry’s ear, the welling of tears not going unnoticed._

_“Show them,” Harry continued, reaching for and grabbing Louis’ hand in his own, “that we are in love.”  Harry held tightly to Louis, hoping his grip would hide the way his hands were shaking.  He didn’t know what Louis would say.  He didn’t know if Louis would smile and nod, if he would deny even the possibility of something like that ever happening.  This was risky, their love, and Harry, so often had second thoughts about all the little pieces of their lives that were always hanging in the balance.  He was never unsure of the love he shared with Louis, but he often had doubts about how everything would come to rest.  He bit his lip to keep it from trembling, willed the tears in his eyes to sink back to where the came without spilling down his cheeks.  He looked into Louis’ eyes, searching and wondering, waiting and hoping.  The moments stretched between them, measured by the sun rising over the edge of the stadium walls, bathing them in shades of orange and red and yellow._

_Louis lifted Harry’s hand and put it against his own heart.  “Your heart,” he said, then, letting go, placed his hand over Harry’s.  “My heart.”_

_Louis smiled, feeling the matching rhythms of beats of their hearts._

_“You’re right Harry.  One day, we will.”_

__  
  


****

Harry showed up, minutes before show time.  Louis couldn’t have explained the explosion of emotions going on within him if he had tried.  He looked up as Harry walked through the room; his pace was quick, and his head was down.  

A chorus of “Harry!” and “Hey man!” and “Where the fuck have you been!” erupted throughout the room, everyone having been on edge, wondering if he’d reappear.  Louis remained quiet, still, afraid to frighten Harry away.  

Harry obviously intended just to pass through, and had no interested in stopping to explain.  Seeing this was his plan, Louis stood up and began to follow him.

“We have to go on in five minutes!” Liam called after him.  “They’ll be pissed if we keep them waiting.”

“They can fucking wait,” Louis shouted, as he passed through the doors in pursuit of Harry.  

“Harry,” Louis said.  His voice echoed in the empty hallway, and he knew Harry had heard.  Harry stopped, turned to face Louis.  Louis, who, seeing the distraught look on Harry’s face, the hopelessness in his eyes, jogged toward him.  “Harry.”

Harry shook his head, bit his lip.  “I’m--,”

“Come on,” Louis said, pulling him into a room off the hallway.  It was empty, and he locked the door behind them.  

“Lou,” Harry began, slouching against the wall.  

Louis rushed up to him, grabbing his face in his hands, kissing him full on the mouth.  It took Harry by surprise.  “Don’t,” Louis said between peppering his face with kisses, “do that...ever...again.”  He pulled away and looked Harry in the eyes.  

Harry’s eyes were filling with tears.  This hadn’t been the reaction he was expecting.  

“I’ve made a horrible mess of everything,” Harry said, working hard to keep his voice from breaking, though he could feel a lump forming in his throat.  “I can’t fix it,” he said.  “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Do you think I give a fuck?” Louis asked him.  “Would I be standing here, holding tight to you if I gave a shit about any of that?”

Harry shrugged, unsure what to make of anything that had happened over the last week.  

“Harry, I have been doing a lot of thinking,” Louis began, before there was a knock on the door.  Louis slapped his hand against it angrily, before pulling it open to see who was on the other side.  

“We’re about to go on,” Liam said.

“I said they’ll have to wait,” Louis told him, anxious to be alone with Harry.  “Tell them to wait.  It will be worth their while.”  

Liam only nodded and walked away again.  

Harry was still standing against the wall, biting his lip, tugging nervously on the sleeve of his shirt.  “Harry, I’ve talked to the boys.  I think it is time that we just...did this.  Before someone else does it for us.”

“Louis, no.  I am not going to have you forced into something just because I made a stupid mistake.  No way.  It’ll never work, and you’ll resent me forever, more than you already do.  You warned me, and you were right, and I was wrong, and I’m too naive, and too trusting.”

“Harry, no.”

“No, listen.  I’ve thought about it a lot.  I’ve not slept for three days, thinking about it, and I’ve made a huge mistake, and I don’t know how it will play out, and I don’t know if it will or it won’t work, or if it will ruin this entire thing that the four of us have built.  I don’t know.  I’m going to fix it.  I think I’ve figured it out.  But it will ruin us, and I’m sorry.  I think we just need to finish up these last shows.  We’ll work on the album, put out something decent enough, and then we can just see how it plays out.  Go our separate ways, maybe.”

“No.”

“Louis, this is going to come out.  I don’t even know who the fuck Celeste is.  She could be anyone.  This could be splashed across the front page of every paper, magazine, website, across the world at any minute.  I’m trying to contain it, but I can’t make any promises.”  Harry was supposed to meet with her after the show tonight, and he was dreading it.  He considered not showing up, but that would probably just make things worse.  He was going to sacrifice himself, on someone else’s timeline, to protect Louis from doing something he wasn’t ready to do.  He didn’t plan on telling Louis, certain that he’d try and talk him out of it.

“Which is why we’re going to beat her to the punch.”  

“Louis.  No.  I won’t have you forced into this because of my stupidity.  I’ve pushed it too far this time.  I never meant for it to go this way, I need you to know that.  I need you to know that I never meant to force this on you.  I know I pushed for it.  But I never wanted to do this without you being on board one hundred percent.  And I certainly don’t want you to do it because you’ve been backed into a corner.”

“That’s not it at all, Harold, stop talking, for just a moment, wouldn’t you?”  He looked at Harry, put his hand against Harry’s chest where he could feel the accelerated pace of his heart.  “Don’t worry, darling.  Listen to me.”

Harry blinked slowly.  Louis took his other hand and grabbed Harry’s placing it above his own heart, so Harry could feel the slow and steady pace of it, could feel that he wasn’t scared or worried or anxious.  

“I am afraid you’ll hate me forever.”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong.  Actually, scratch that.  You are wrong, but I’m not afraid.”

“Lou.”

“Harry.”  Louis angled toward him and kissed him, slowly, softly, before backing up again, their hands still over each others’ hearts.  “I felt it, the other night, when I walked out onto the stage.  I wanted to do it then, wanted to tell the whole world, wished we had done it sooner.  It isn’t because I want to beat her to the punch, it isn’t because I feel forced into it.  I want it.  I want the world to know you are mine, and I am yours, and that I don’t give a single fuck who knows or cares.”

“If you’re just saying that…”

“Don’t try and talk me out of it Harry.  I’ve been coming to this decision for a while now, surely you realize that?  I know it has taken me longer than it should have, and god knows I can’t even count the times that I’ve been afraid that I’ve lost you for good.  Too many times in the last few months, in fact.  But we have to stop now.  We have to make a decision.  If you want to go our separate ways, I’ll respect that.  But that’s not what I want.”

“What do you want,” Harry asked.

“You.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile, but was it really so simple?  “What about Niall and Liam?  This isn’t just about us anymore.”

“We have their full support, unconditionally.  Whatever we want to do, they will help to make it work.”

“Is it really this simple, Lou,” Harry whispered, unable to believe it.

“Yes.  This time, it is.”

“So?”

“So….  Let’s do it.”

 

“Alright, boys,” Liam said, looking each one of them in the eye as all four of their hands were clasped together in the middle of the tight circle they made with their bodies, shutting out the backstage chaos that swirled around him.  “Are you ready?”  They all looked at each other, making eye contact with each boy in turn before they all looked at Harry.  Harry, whose hand rested atop Niall’s strong and steady fist, felt like his chest might explode.  He could feel Louis’ hand above his, his strong grasp reaffirming that they were in this together.  He could see, too, the way Liams fingers tightened around Louis’ more delicate hand, and could see the determination in his knuckles.  There were no doubts or regrets here.

“It’s now or never,” Liam said.  They all looked at him, wrinkling their noses.  “Well, it’s not now or never.  I just mean...it’s a saying, is all, meant to pep you up, you know, get going, let’s do this sort of thing,” Liam said, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, shut. up. Liam,” Louis said, squeezing Harry’s hand just a bit more tightly.

They all giggled as Liam pouted, pushing even closer, their shoulders all touching, their heads bowed together so no one could overhear.  “Relax, mate,” Liam said to Harry.  “You are white as a sheet.  We are doing this because we love you.  There are no regrets here.  You want to back out, you back out.  But no more running away.”

Harry was overwhelmed and couldn’t speak, but he nodded and turned his head toward Louis.  “Let’s do it then,” Louis said, putting words where Harry was unable.  They all smiled, chanted their private chant as they always did, and broke apart, all except for Louis, who still gripped Harry’s hand tightly.  “Just one more minute, boys,” Louis said.  

The crowd just beyond the wall was wild now, begging in one unified voice for the boys to take the stage.  

“Are you nervous, love,” Louis asked.

“Aren’t you?”

“Ah, not about them,” he answered, nodding in the direction of the screaming.  “Bit nervous for this, though.”  

“What?” Harry asked, searching Louis’ face, his heart jumping in his chest.  

Louis reached into his pocket, and held out his hand between them, the ring he had given Harry resting in his palm.  He watched as Harry stared at it.

“Harry!” Someone called from behind him.  

“Give me a minute,” he mumbled, but the person didn’t hear and shouted again.  He swung his head quickly.  “Give me a minute,” he reiterated.  He looked back at the ring resting in Louis’ hand, and then up at Louis, meeting his eyes that were solely focused on Harry’s face.  Harry broke into a smile, and not trusting himself to speak, nodded.

“Yeah?” Louis said, his voice hoarse from emotion as he picked up the ring between his two fingers and held it up.  “Let’s have it then.”  He waited for Harry to offer his hand, and then slipped the ring on his finger, back where it belonged after all of these trying weeks.

Louis stepped close to him, erasing all of the distance, and took Harry’s face in his hands, burying his fingers in Harry’s loose hair.  “Forever and always,” Louis said, and pressed his lips to Harry’s softly, not worrying, for the first time, who might see.  

“Errr, excuse me,” someone said from behind Harry, clearing her throat a bit awkwardly.  “Harry, Louis, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone here to see you.”

“Me?” Louis asked.

“No,” she said.  “Harry.  She says that you have a meeting.”

“Who is it,” Louis asked, looking from the assistant and back to Harry.  “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Harry said, the final weight on his shoulders being lifted.  “I’ll tell you later,” he said to Louis.  “It doesn’t matter right now.”  This was on his terms, on Louis’ terms, and he didn’t want anything to leave any question as to why they were doing this--because he, and because Louis, wanted to.  For themselves.  On their own.  Independent of anyone foolish enough to pressure them into anything they weren’t ready for.  “Tell her she’s too late.  And give her a front row seat,” Harry winked at the assistant.  “Oh, and call Richard and tell him she’s here.  Ask him how he wants to handle it, and do whatever he says.  We’re going to need him on deck anyway.”

And then Harry turned back to Louis.

They turned together, shoulder to shoulder, hands clasped together so tight that their fingers began to ache instantly.  They looked ahead to Liam and Niall who were grinning back at them, and stood stock still as the band began to play.  

“I do remember,” Louis said.  

“What?”

“That morning as the sun came up.  My heart, your heart,” Louis said against Harry’s ear.  “I’ll love you forever.”

They took their places between Niall and Liam, and instead of appearing on stage and running in all different directions, the four of them stood their, hands clasped together, the four of them inextricably linked together in whatever was to come.  

The crowd erupted, no doubt excited to see the four of them holding hands, and shockingly, Louis and Harry standing in the middle.  The roar was deafening and, missing their cues and not caring one little bit, the four boys’ faces stretched into smiles, and tears filled their eyes.  

Liam squeezed Louis’ hand tightly and then let go.

Niall gripped Harry’s hand a moment longer, and turned to him, nodding as he let his hand go.  

They stood there, the four of them, still shoulder to shoulder, but only Louis’ and Harry’s hands remained intertwined.

They looked at each other, squeezed their hands tighter.  “Don’t let go,” Harry mouthed to Louis.

“Never,” he mouthed back.  

And then they turned to look out at the crowd.  

This wasn’t what they had expected.

The band was still playing, the intro to the song, looping over again, but the stadium was practically silent.  

They turned to face each other again, stunned at the reaction, the way the music faded away, and the entire place was bathed in silence.   They heard nothing but the sound of the adrenaline fueled thumping of their hearts beating in their ears.  They stared at each other, still clasped together, their brothers holding tight to their sides.

They glanced at either side of them, the grins wide on Liam’s and Niall’s faces as they stepped away, and Harry and Louis turned again to face the crowd.  

As the sun set over the edge of the stadium, the blinding light faded just enough to give them a clear view of the thousands of people standing before them, all of their arms raised into the air, and their hands pressed together in the form of hearts.

 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, y'all. Thank you so much for reading and following along. It means so much to me to see people enjoying my work. 
> 
> And much love and thanks to Dio who has been an invaluable help over the last months.


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